Alienated
by Gixxer Pilot
Summary: NCIS/Transformers 2007 crossover. The death of a Navy Petty Officer leads NCIS to the Autobots. But does one team member know more than he's letting on? Full NCIS casefile, 'M' rating is for safety. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Alienated

**Author**: Gixxer Pilot

**Rating**: PG-13 to R (just for language)

**Summary**: Gibbs was certain that his brief Gulf War contact with a race of giant alien robots was the strangest thing to ever happen to him. When an NCIS case reunites him with the Autobots, the Gunny realizes that statement might not have been entirely accurate.

**Author's Note**: I've been an avid reader of fiction for the past few years, but this is only my third attempt at writing my own, and the first I feel might actually make it to completion. This is also the first fic I've had the guts to expose to the world. As such, I expect mistakes and constructive criticism is welcomed. Flames will be laughed at, and then ignored. I hope to keep writing if the bunnies allow, and promise that the next fics I write will not be as weak. I have the whole story mapped out, so it's just sitting down to write it out. Hopefully that equates to one chapter per week.

I got this idea from lurking around on livejournal comms tf2007fun and The Cybertronian, so I hope I've done at least a bit of justice to the bunny ideas for NCIS meets Transformers. In the timeline sense, this fic takes place a few months after the Mission City battle for Transformers and seasons four and five of NCIS, though it does ignore all of the Mike Franks plot line of Hiatus.

**Requisite Disclaimer**: Neither NCIS nor Transformers are mine. They belong to people way cooler than me. I'm just borrowing them for a bit, and I promise to return them in good working order. Don't sue me, as you'll get nothing but my motorcycle payment and a really cranky cat.

**Chapter 1**

Washington, D.C.

If there were something Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo well and truly disliked, it would have to Mondays. And if there were anything Tony truly hated, it would be paperwork on Mondays. It wasn't that Tony disliked his job; quite the contrary, he loved his job. NCIS was the only place the former Baltimore cop really felt as if he belonged. He just didn't much care for the paperwork that came along with it.

So instead of catching up on his reports, as both his teammates had wisely chosen to do, DiNozzo found himself surfing eBay for the latest in movie memorabilia.

"Hey McGee! Check this out. Someone is auctioning off Commodore Norrington's sword from Pirates of the Caribbean," DiNozzo said as he read through the listing information.

"That's great, Tony. Maybe you can use it during your Civil War recreations," McGee said sarcastically, not bothering to look up from his computer monitor. DiNozzo responded with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

"Probie, Probie, Probie. I thought you were more hip than that. Even Gibbs might even know that there's about a hundred years' difference between the Civil War and the time of the great Captain Jack Sparrow!" DiNozzo said with flourish, wiggling his eyebrows and flopping his wrists around while doing his best impression of Johnny Depp.

"Sarcasm, Tony. Sarcasm. Maybe you picked up on it? Or have you been imbibing too much rum to get into your new role as the famous captain of the Black Pearl?"

Ziva, not to be left out of the conversation, added, "What would you possibly need that for, anyway Tony? It's not like you actually know what to do with it. It's probably not even real! And, do you have any idea of what Gibbs will do to you when he catches you trying to buy a movie prop on his time?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe run him through with it," Gibbs said as he breezed through the bullpen with his ever-present Starbucks coffee in hand. Settling himself at his desk, the team leader fixed his senior field agent with a pointed stare. "How are those reports coming, DiNozzo? You know, the ones I was supposed to have this morning?"

Tony gulped. Quickly clicking off eBay, DiNozzo cleared his throat. "Reports. Right. On it, boss." Ziva and McGee poorly hid their chuckles as they worked. At that moment, DiNozzo was apparently granted a reprieve from his boss' wrath as Gibbs' cell phone rang.

"McGee! Gas the truck. We've got a dead sailor in Norfolk!" Gibbs said as he tossed the keys from the NCIS van across the bullpen in McGee's direction. Ziva, who flashed the computer whiz a sinister smile, deftly intercepted them.

"Ziva, no. You're not driving! I want to _live_ to get to the scene!"

Timothy McGee was sure he was going to die. When he had written Deep Sixed, he never thought his fellow coworkers at NCIS would ever discover his pseudonym, Thom E. Gemcity. Thanks to his little sister and her oppositely large mouth, that little tidbit of information was now public knowledge. It wasn't that Tim disliked his written work, but more of the fact that there were some things he would have preferred to keep to himself. DiNozzo didn't need any more ammunition to use against him, and Gibbs probably would have thought him to be crazy for being an author. That, and he flat out refused to acknowledge that his characters in his book were, indeed, based off his coworkers.

Right now, McGee wished _he_ could be deep sixed.

One of the many advantages of being Mossad was the sheer amount of training in psychological warfare the agency gives each operative. Ziva was no exception. She wasn't nearly as forgiving as the others and she would admit to having a bit of sadistic streak in her. But when it came to McGee, he was a little different. McGee was the baby brother, the lost puppy that should never be kicked. It wasn't that she really wanted to, but more because she simply could. Plus, deep down, it was a little bit fun to screw with the probie. Just once stuck riding in the back of the team's van was not enough. Ziva had insisted upon driving to every scene since the Incident With Tim's Sister, just to punish McGee with his affliction to motion sickness. Blaring horns, squealing brakes, angry yells and shouts of irritation had become the norm with NCIS traveling and today was apparently no exception.

Arriving to the scene thankfully in one piece, McGee wondered how many ways he come up with to "repay" Sarah for her slip of the tongue. He got to work with Ziva, whose apparent annoyance with him seemed to dissipate as soon as they started cataloging and photographing the scene. At the same time, DiNozzo and Gibbs went to do interviews.

"What do you got so far, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked his senior field agent as he entered the converted basement apartment.

"Boss, the apartment is rented to twenty six year old Petty Officer Second Class Jonathan Mitchell. He just returned from a six-month float on the Stennis as part of their cryptology unit. The ship put in to port two and a half weeks ago, and he's been on leave since then," DiNozzo said as he flipped his notebook shut.

Gibbs stepped through the door of the small apartment bedroom in Norfolk. Looking around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary save for the dead body lying on the bed. Ducky and Palmer were both already there, doing their preliminary analysis on cause of death.

"Who's she, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he jerked his head in the direction of a somewhat hysterical woman in her late forties, whom McGee was trying desperately in vain to calm.

"Gloria Anderson. She's the owner of the home, and the one who found Mitchell dead," DiNozzo said. "Ha. Watching McGee trying to comfort a distraught woman is like watching Ziva trying to be subtle. Hey, I think we should take bets on--"

Gibbs looked over to his struggling junior agent and cut DiNozzo off before his mouth could get him in any more trouble. "McGee! Sit rep!"

McGee looked genuinely relieved at the sound of Gibbs' bark. Excusing himself from the distraught woman, the probie made his way over to the other two agents.

"Boss, Ms. Anderson said she's been renting to PO Mitchell for three years now, ever since he was stationed here. She said he's been a good renter. Quiet, polite. The apartment doesn't have its own entrance, since it was a basement, so he has to use the door near the kitchen. She usually sees him at least once a day, so when she didn't see him in four days she got worried and unlocked his door. That's just how she found him."

"Ziva! How about you?"

"There are no obvious signs of a struggle in the apartment. Nothing's out of place and according to Ducky, there are no large or visible bruises, cuts or abrasions on the body. And as McGee said, the owner had to use her keys to enter, so forced entry is out of the question," the Mossad officer finished.

"Anything else, McGee?"

"Nothing, really. Ms. Anderson said that Mitchell has been late with the rent a few times, but has always made up for it." Gibbs grunted in acknowledgement and went to speak with his medical examiner.

"Time of death, Duck?" Gibbs said as he moved behind Ducky.

"Jethro, you know patience is a virtue," Ducky said over his shoulder to the team leader. Seeing his stare, Ducky continued. "…But as we all know, it is most decidedly not one of yours."

Palmer snorted in amusement as he tried for the third time to get a liver temperature.

"Do you have something to add, Palmer?"

"Who? Me? I--no. I just--it's fitting what Dr. Mallard said." Seeing the famous Gibbs Glare, Palmer said, "I'll shut up now."

"Wise choice."

"A wise choice, indeed, Mr. Palmer. Now, if you're quite finished irritating Agent Gibbs, perhaps you can concentrate long enough to get me a liver temperature so we might discern this poor fellow's time of death," Ducky said as he walked around the body once more.

Palmer shifted and bit his lip. "I'm trying, Dr. Mallard, but I can't seem to find the liver. It's like it's not there."

"Oh, for god's sake. Give me the liver probe," Ducky said, taking the small metal spike from his assistant with exasperation. As he did so, the medical examiner mumbled, "I swear. For such a smart young man, you have the tendency to make even the simplest of procedures exceedingly difficult."

"I'm not kidding, Dr. Mallard. I seriously think it's gone," Jimmy said as he watched his mentor struggle as well.

Ducky pierced the dead Petty Officer's skin with the probe and felt…nothing. No resistance, no soft organic tissue. He did it once again, just to be sure. Setting down the probe, the ME began to gently palpate the abdomen with his fingertips. Feeling nothing but a large void in the area of the abdominal cavity, Ducky said only one thing.

"Oh, my."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: I wanted to specify why I chose to publish this story in the Transformers category instead of NCIS, as it is an NCIS casefile. I felt that it fit better here with the giant robots simply because one doesn't need to know the NCIS characters to enjoy the read. However, if readers are unfamiliar with the 2007 Transformers movie, the whole story line wouldn't make a whole lot of sense.

Also, the "Stennis" to which I refer a couple of times in the chapter is the USS John C. Stennis, a US Naval aircraft carrier. That'll become an important point in later chapters. Just an FYI.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Don't own. Don't sue. Please?

**Chapter 2**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

"Slagging inclement Earth weather! I hate this Primus forsaken planet!"

Pow. Whizzz! _**BOOOOMMM!!!**_

Optimus Prime cycled his vents as he listened to the sounds of explosions and loud cursing coming from the firing range. Ironhide. Again. This was the second time this week the Autobot Weapons Specialist had gone on a rampage. Prime mused that with Ironhide's firepower, his rampage was not a good thing. Pinching the bridge of his noseplates and counting to ten slowly in his head, Prime allowed himself a brief moment of retrospection over the past few months that lead his small band of brothers into their most recent predicament.

The Autobots had won, in a manner of speaking. Megatron was offlined and being crushed in the deep recesses of the Laurentian Abyss. The battle for the Allspark was over, as was any hope of resurrecting Cybertron to its former glory. Mission City had recovered nicely; the U.S. government swooped in and rebuilt the city in record time. Partly was to save face, and the other more important part was to conceal the existence of a species of giant robotic aliens taking up residence on Earth. Now, the only item remaining on the Autobots' To Do list was assimilation into Earth's culture.

Apparently, for some, that was easier said than done.

And that assimilation was what brought Prime back to his present situation with his weapons specialist. Ironhide had chosen to be the Lennox family guardian, but had voiced his vehement displeasure at being used as a "real" truck on several occasions. He had been overruled by Sarah Lennox on this particular day and had spent the morning dutifully serving as a shopping cart. Ironhide was only granted reprieve from surefire embarrassment when he finally hauled a new swing set for Annabelle back to the Lennox ranch. It wasn't the guardianship or even errand duties Ironhide disliked. It was the six hours of constant rain and finally high winds and hail pinging off his exterior that had him crabby enough to blow things into immeasurably small pieces.

Finished stalling, Prime hefted his considerable bulk out of his chair and made his way toward the firing range to deal with his wayward friend. For such a tough mech, Ironhide could, at times, throw tantrums that would put a newly online sparkling to shame. The unfortunate difference was such that sparklings didn't have two massive, lethal cannons strapped to their arms and an itchy trigger processor to go along with it.

"Could someone stop Ironhide before he blows up the whole base? If I'm going to die with this unit, I would prefer it to be in battle, and not because 'Hide is pissed he had to sit out in the rain," Captain Will Lennox said with open arms to the contingent of soldiers sitting around at various tables, playing cards.

"Hey, don't look at me, man. You're in charge. I just work here," Sergeant Bobby Epps, and Lennox's right hand, said with his hands in mock surrender and a big smile plastered all over his face. Several other soldiers followed Epps' lead. Lennox growled under his breath.

"You are all a bunch of pussies. Really. Every single time, I am the one that has to deal with 'Hide and his moods. He's like having another wife! And I'll bet you all want me to try and calm him down!"

Various nods and snickers answered his somewhat rhetorical statement.

"Fine. But I will PT you all until you fucking _die_ for this," Lennox said as he stomped toward the opening of the hanger, catcalls of, 'Yes, Sergeant Hartmann,' reaching his ears.

From behind him, a deep baritone voice rumbled nearly thirty feet above his head. "That won't be necessary today, Captain Lennox. I will deal with Ironhide." Lennox released a frustrated breath.

"Thank you, Prime. I'm not getting much help from my people."

"What are you talking about, Lennox? You and Ironhide were made for each other! You're both like cranky old women," Epps said while trying half heartedly to contain his laughter. It was only his status as one of Lennox's closest friends that allowed him slightly more leeway with his mouth.

"Ironhide is under my command, and as his superior, his discipline falls to me," Prime responded, a pinched tone of irritation sneaking its way through his vocalizer. Lennox glared at the big black mech outside the hanger bay as Prime made his way toward his angry soldier.

"AND WE TOLD YOU NO BOMBS ON THE RANGE WITHOUT EARLIER APPROVAL, YOU IDIOT! IT WAS JUST A LITTLE RAIN! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE WATERPROOF!" Lennox yelled out after Prime's retreating back, hoping his words would reach the Ironhide. He punctuated his statement by crossing his arms over his chest and grinding his teeth.

Epps looked around. "So, now that you're done having your man-fit, are you gonna tell us why you dragged all of us here for a meeting on what should be our first full weekend off in over a month? You know man, setting up this base and dealing with the new arrivals ain't exactly been a picnic."

Lennox surveyed the somewhat irritated looks of all his soldiers. Epps was right. It _had_ been difficult, and the team did deserve some time off. However, the good guys never really got to pick their own schedules.

"I'll tell you as soon as Prime collects Mr. Pissy Pants. He's already briefed the Autobots, but he wants to address you on the situation as well," Lennox said as Prime shoved Ironhide back into the NEST tactical hanger, Optimus tearing strips off him in Cybertronian from the range to the entrance.

"Prime says I'm supposed to apologize." Ironhide said gruffly and impassively as he came to halt in front of the group of human soldiers. "Even though I'm not sure why, I guess I'm sorry."

"Ironhide…" Prime growled.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Prime." Turning to Lennox, Ironhide finally conceded defeat. "I'm sorry I irritated your femme and then tried to blow up half the base. I just don't see why your sparkling needs an exercise apparatus that's clearly too big for her."

Will planted his hand on his hips, his face taking on a red tinge again with his rising anger. "I need to have excuse to spoil her? I wanted a head start!"

"It still makes no sense to me. But for the record, I do not like hail, rain, bubbling little Earth sparklings, Cheerios or Veggie Tales. Please tell your femme the next time she insists on playing that noise through my speakers, I will spit the device back at her. In little, tiny pieces."

Lennox's anger softened at Ironhide's somewhat lame attempt at an apology. Truth be told, the Captain didn't really like Veggie Tales, either. "Apology accepted, and if you could find a covert way to destroy those stupid Barney tapes as well, my sanity would be grateful."

"Are you guys gonna hug now, too? Because that would make a great wallpaper for the NEST tactical command room," Epps said. Lennox rolled his eyes, punched Epps in the shoulder and then steeled his face to slip once again into the role of commander.

"Now that we're all assembled, let's get back to business. There's a situation I need to brief you all on," Lennox began. Groans of dismay reverberated throughout the group of human soldiers.

"There goes our weekend! Dammit!"

Prime stepped in to rescue the young captain and addressed the NEST team. "I understand you have all given up considerable amounts of time to help us construct a home on Earth, and for that you have our gratitude. However, Maggie Madsen has passed on some discomforting news I feel you need to know."

Seeing he now had the room's attention, Lennox began to speak again. "Maggie informed Prime and myself that she and Glen Whitman intercepted a communication from whom she believed to be Barricade on a sort of half assed Decepticon Plan B."

Ironhide snorted. "Everything they do is half assed."

"Ironhide, please," Prime said, his normally endless patience beginning to run thin. "Continue, Captain Lennox."

"Barricade has been trying to find and solicit as many people he can that may have had contact or access to the dead Decepticons, looking for anything 'alien in nature'."

"Okay, that's great. Why?" Epps asked after a beat.

"As you know, the Allspark, which Sam used to offline Megatron and save me, had great power to create Cybertronian life. It is our theory that Barricade is trying to find pieces of the Allspark to try and harvest whatever power he can in order to resurrect his leader," Prime said as Ratchet made his way over to the briefing.

"But wouldn't another Decepticon just move in to take Megadick's place? Why go to all the trouble?" one of the NEST snipers, Jackson, asked.

"Normally, yes, that would be how it worked. However, the war has claimed many lives, and both sides are heavily depleted. There simply aren't many left who want to step in, and of those who would, even fewer are qualified," Prime said.

"And Decepticons aren't like us. They don't follow rules. Starscream is hypothetically the next in line for command, but it's a known fact that he and Barricade despise each other. Barricade would not willingly follow Starscream as long as his spark still glows," Ironhide added.

Epps hopped off the table on which he was perched. "So let me get this straight: that freaky jet and the annoying ass police car hate each other. But instead of being all buddy-buddy to work together and wipe you all off the planet," Epps paused and looked at the Autobots, "no offense, the dude would rather take his chances trying to overthrow the next rightful commander?"

Prime dropped down on one knee. "Correct, Sergeant Epps."

Nervous and irritated glances shot around the room. "Do we have a plan for now? A mission?"

Lennox shook his head. "Negative. There's not a mission planned yet because we don't know how many pieces of the Allspark are out there."

"The only one we know for sure is real and in existence is the one Prime pulled out of Megatron at Mission City," Ratchet said. "For your safety and for ours, I will not tell you where it is. It's best for you not to know."

"The only thing we've confirmed on our end is that there was a security issue on the Stennis," Lennox said.

"That's putting it mildly," Ironhide added from his position near the door of the hanger.

"There were 5,000 sailors on that ship, so it's going to take some time to figure out why Barricade is coming up with this type of plan now," Epps responded, completely ignoring Ironhide's snide comment.

"For now, all we can do is wait and watch. Maggie and Glen have agreed to begin work exclusively on tracking these signals and back tracing anyone the Decepticons have contacted," Lennox said.

"I've ordered Bumblebee to locate Barricade. We have not yet seen any other Decepticons land on Earth, so as of now, we're certain he's the only one still here," Prime said.

"Do we know exactly where Barricade is?" another new NEST soldier, Sergeant Bates, asked.

"He moves around. Bumblebee has been working to identify his numerous hideouts and establish a pattern of his movement. We have a good idea of the four places he's been staying with the most frequency," Ironhide said. The human team looked uneasy with the uncertainty.

Bates continued. "Ok, but at least _please_ tell me you know where Starscream disappeared to."

Prime shuttered his optics. Why did humans have to ask so many questions? "We are unsure of the whereabouts of Starscream at present. We caught his faint energy signature departing Earth's atmosphere right after Mission City, but we have not been able to reestablish his pattern thus far."

"Wait. You got all this technology at your disposal, millions of dollars to play with, and you're trying to tell me you can't find one simple thing?!" Epps stood as he talked and put his hands on his hips.

Prime sighed. "It's not that 'simple', as you put it, Sgt. Epps. But to directly answer your question, no, we don't know where he is."

"And _that_ is a truly discomforting notion," Lennox stated.

Epps turned and looked at his superior. "Well, no shit, sir."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: I totally wish I could have come up with a better title for this story. Alas. I did not. But, holy crap! People like this! I'm completely shocked and quite flattered. As I said on my LJ page, I thought everyone would say, "You suck. Stop ruining our fandom with this crap," when I posted this. Honestly, I had never actually planned to finish it, let alone post it when I first started typing it out. It was just a crazy thing to help me through my insomnia, especially since I'm such a noob to fan fiction writing. But, if people like it, I'm definitely going to finish it. The story is completely outlined, so now I just have to type it all out. Thanks to all those who reviewed so far. I appreciate the help!

I know this chapter might feel a little rushed, but I wanted to get through all the story exposition and get to the real guts of the matter, and that doesn't really start until the next chapter. I wanted it to feel like the part of an NCIS episode after the opening credits (yanno, the first "FOOF!"), where things really start rolling. Hopefully, getting to the giant fighting robots quicker is penance enough to rush Chapter 3 a bit.

**Disclaimer**: Sigh. Still poor. Must not be mine. Dammit.

**Chapter 3**

Washington, D.C.

Gathered in the bullpen of the NCIS main squad room, Gibbs and his team were going over what they knew so far about their case. Unfortunately, it wasn't much.

"PO Second Jonathan Mitchell, twenty six, born and raised in St. Paul, Minnesota," Ziva said as she flipped through information on the plasma with the wireless remote. "He was an only child, raised by a single parent, his mother, after his father was killed in a drive by shooting. By all accounts, he did not do very well in school, though he was an exceptionally bright child. He joined the Navy straight out of high school at eighteen, has worked his way through the enlisted ranks, and has been stationed on active cruises since the end of his cryptology training."

DiNozzo stood up and walked toward the middle of the group. "I just got off the phone with his CO, Lt. Eileen Walker, and she said Mitchell was an above average crypto, very skilled and extremely driven. She said that he had a tendency to dream, and had, and I quote, 'A vivid imagination for all things alien.' He spent all his down time researching and reading about it. She said that he had recently become convinced that some giant alien robot was out to kill him. Sounds like someone else we know," Tony said, shooting a look at McGee.

"Tony, just because I play MMORPGs does not mean I automatically believe in aliens," McGee said with a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Until I believe it, McGee."

"More like until you grow up," McGee muttered under his breath with a lidded glare. Louder, McGee said, "I'd like to see you say that to Abby, Tony."

"She loves me. She would never…" He trailed off. "Would she?"

"Aliens are at the top of her list of things she believes in that she can't see. I would love to see you try."

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "Okay. DiNozzo, get on the horn and talk to Mitchell's family. Ziva, go through his financial records. McGee, go see what Abby has on his laptop. I'm going to see Ducky."

"Ah, Jethro! Just the man I was hoping to see," Ducky said cheerfully as he looked up from his work. Dressed in his customary green scrubs and facemask propped on his head, the Medical Examiner handed three vials of blood and a few meager tissue samples to Jimmy. "To Abby, if you please, Mr. Palmer."

"Right away, Dr. Mallard." Gibbs watched as Palmer beat a hasty exit up one floor to Abby's lab, still unsure if he'd been forgiven for his slip of the tongue earlier at the crime scene. The senior NCIS agent inwardly smiled. It was still fun to scare the probies, even if he would never admit that to anyone but himself.

"What have you got so far, Duck?"

"Well, it's a most peculiar thing. I've never actually seen anything like this before," Ducky said as he and Gibbs stopped in front of the body of PO Mitchell. Gibbs peered inside the hollowed out cavity of the body and looked around.

"Where are all the organs?"

Ducky stuck a gloved finger up in Gibbs' face as he made his point. "That is precisely why I wanted to talk to you. You see, for once, Mr. Palmer was not wrong when he said something strange had happened. You remember earlier today when my young assistant was struggling so mightily to retrieve a liver temperature, correct?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I was there, Duck."

"Of course you were, Jethro. The reason we couldn't ascertain the time of death at the scene was because our unfortunate Petty Officer Mitchell _has_ no organs left in his body," Ducky said as he pointed to the cavity.

"So they were taken out?"

"No, I don't think so, though I'm entirely unsure how it would have happened. When I cut him open, all his bones were present, but his soft tissue from his torso was completely gone. It was like they had never been there," Ducky said incredulously, the perplexed expression on the medical examiner's face finding its way into Ducky's verbal exposition.

"Signs of trauma?" Gibbs asked, feeling the case get weirder by the minute.

"Positively none! That's what's so confusing. There were no signs of trauma, cuts, abrasions, breaks, or even so much as a puncture mark the poor lad's body," Ducky said as Palmer, finished with his errands to Abby, walked back into autopsy. "We'll just have to wait for the tox screen, I suppose."

"You know, in ancient Egypt, the pharaohs were mummified by having their brains ripped out through their noses. Do you think something like that could have happened here?" Palmer asked casually with a silly smirk on his face. Ducky and Gibbs could only stare.

"Well, unless someone has figured out how to pull a man's lungs out through his nose, which I may remind you, Mr. Palmer, are far _bigger_ than his nose, I highly doubt it," Ducky said. "Think before you speak, Jimmy! Think!"

Feeling properly chastised for the second time in one day, Palmer dropped his head and slumped his shoulders. Gibbs saw him deflate like a balloon. "Yes, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky walked over to the other side of the table and put his hand on his young protégé's shoulder. "You are a remarkably bright young man, Jimmy. One day, I will not be here to guide you, but you will not require it. You needn't try so hard to impress us. That will come in due time."

"I understand. I just that sometimes my mind gets a little excited, you know? My brain gets behind of my mouth," Palmer said as he looked down to stare at the body. Anything to avoid Gibbs' glare. Ducky nodded in sympathetic understanding.

But as he looked down, Palmer caught sight of something wedged between the ribcage and the spinal column of the victim. Cocking his head slightly to the side and narrowing his eyes, Jimmy walked across the room and grabbed a nearby magnifying glass off Ducky's desk.

"What do you see, Palmer?" Gibbs asked as Jimmy returned the gurney on which PO Mitchell lay.

Straining to get a better look, Palmer tried to Tetris in the magnifying glass to see what he found. "I'm not sure. It looks like some sort of shard or something. It's lodged between the seventh and eighth ribs, pressed up against the C8 vertebrae." Switching out the magnifying glass for a set of forceps, Palmer dug into Mitchell's chest. Twisting his wrist just right, he managed to pull the foreign object free.

"Ah ha!" he said with triumph. His expression shifted from happiness to confusion in a split second. "What is it? Geez, for it's size, this thing is really heavy!"

Held securely in the tip of the industrial size tweezers, was a small piece of what appeared to be metal, brownish black in color, about three inches wide by about two inches across. The edges were jagged, as if the piece was ripped violently free from its mother source.

"I have positively no idea. I've never seen anything like this before. Look, it's got some sort of strange symbols on it," Ducky said as he took the shard from Palmer to examine.

"I don't know of any language in existence that looks like this one. Maybe one of the ancient languages?" Palmer speculated.

"No, I don't think so. Old hieroglyphics were not this complex. Gibbs, do you have--" Ducky cut himself off as he heard the doors to autopsy whoosh open and observed Gibbs step into the waiting elevator.

"Do you think he knows what it is, Dr. Mallard?" Palmer asked as the doors to the elevator slid closed. "It just looks so…alien."

"Jimmy, over the years, I've learned not to speculate on what Jethro knows or does not know. That man is an enigma wrapped up in a riddle at times, and you'd do well to remember that," Ducky said as he bagged and tagged the shard for transport up to Abby's lab.

"Duly noted, Doctor."

"Well now, Mr. Palmer, with this find, I think you can consider yourself redeemed for the day," Ducky said. "What do you say we get this lad closed up and prepped for transport, hmm?

"Just when I think I've seen it all," Palmer said as he prepared to close up the body.

Gibbs rode the elevator one floor up to Abby's lab, finding her and McGee engrossed in the contents of PO Mitchell's hard drive. Both computer experts were furiously typing away, trying to break the multiple levels of encryption on the machine.

"I swear, I'm going to get into this thing if it's the last thing I do," Abby growled as she received yet another access denied message for her troubles. Sneaking up behind both her and McGee, Gibbs leaned his head over her shoulder.

"Or you could just take a break." McGee jumped and spun around. Abby let out a little squeak.

"Gibbs! How many times have I told you not to do that? You know I hate it!" she said as she gave him a light shove.

"But, it wouldn't be any fun then, Abbs." Gibbs smiled. "I have something I need you to look at, and I need to steal McGee from you."

"What did you find in the body?" McGee asked.

"It's what we didn't find that's the problem, McGee. No organs, no soft tissue, just a piece of what looked like metal. I need Abby to analyze it and I need you for a little research," Gibbs said.

McGee gaped. "Nothing? How is there nothing? I thought Ducky said no signs of trauma at the scene."

"He did."

"Ooh. Hinky!" Abby said with a waggle of her dark eyebrows, eyes alight as Ducky strolled into her lab.

"Hello, Abigail. I come bearing a fine, strange gift," Ducky said as he extended his hand with the evidence bag of the shard. "This was pulled out of PO Mitchell, and as I'm sure Gibbs has already informed you, was the only thing we found inside him. I am certain you can 'work your magic' to find out what it is?"

"Of course, Ducky. Never doubt it," Abby said as she smiled and signed the evidence tag, preserving the chain of evidence.

"Uh, boss? What did you want me to research? If it's okay with you, I'll just do it down here in case Abby needs any help," McGee said.

Gibbs sighed. This was going to be really embarrassing, and Abby would love every minute of it. "I need you to research every recording of alien encounters in the last four months. When Abby's done, she can help you, too."

McGee's jaw hit the workbench. "A-alien? Boss? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, McGee I'm fine. I just have a gut feeling. Now get on it!"

"On it, boss!"

"I'm going for coffee."

Abby watched Gibbs breeze out of her lab, her black painted fingernail massaging the side of her face. "This is _way_ more than hinky."

A few hours after Ducky dropped the unknown shard of metal from PO Mitchell off with Abby, Gibbs found himself at an impasse. Even coffee wasn't helping his thought train anymore. Gibbs blew out a frustrated breath and looked over his computer monitor at Ziva and Tony.

"Ziva, DiNozzo, what do you have so far?"

Tony sighed. "Nothing much, boss. I'm still trying to locate most of Mitchell's remaining family. I've got calls in to his shipmates, but since they've been on liberty since the Stennis put in to port, they're in the wind."

"And I do not have much better news, Gibbs. Mitchell paid cash for most everything. He had no credit cards and no car payment. No student loans and the man barely managed his checking account. I do not see any history at all of excessive spending. The man was very fungal."

"Frugal, Ziva. It's frugal. Fungal is like mushrooms, and that would be really gross," DiNozzo said as he swiveled around in circles in his chair and crinkled his nose, images of green mold now running through his head.

"Fungal, frugal, whatever. You get the point!" Ziva said as she gestured animatedly with a pencil in her hand.

Gibbs' cell phone rang. "Keep at it. We need answers," Picking up his ringing cell phone, he barked his customary greeting. "Yeah, Gibbs. I'll be right down, Abby."

Gibbs stepped through the threshold of Abby's lab and was immediately assaulted by loud rock music blaring at ear shattering decibel levels from her speakers. He thanked the Director every day for her soundproof lab.

"Whaddya got for me, Abbs?"

Abby turned to face her boss, her face alight with energy only present when she was on the cusp of something new and exciting. "Gibbs, this shard of whatever is the freakiest thing I've ever seen! Like freakier than a Predialien freaky. Like _really_ freaky!"

A raised eyebrow was his only response.

Slowing down to accommodate for the generation gap, Abby said, "You have no idea what a Predalien is, do you?"

Gibbs shook his head to the negative.

"A couple of years ago, some crazy people made a mash up of Alien and Predator, and the Predalien comes along when the alien and the predator…" Abby trailed off, seeing the annoyed look on Gibbs' face. "…You-don't-care-at-all-because-you-hate-pop-culture-and-you-just-want-to-know-what-I-found," she spit out in a rush.

"That about sums it up, Abbs."

Abby turned and walked to her computers, bringing up the analysis of the shard. "Okay. I ran the shard through Mr. Mass Spec, and I got nothing. Nada. Zip! I thought maybe it was my machine, so I cleaned and recalibrated and tried again. Same result. You know what I found? I think that this shard – it's from no metal that exists on Earth."

That certainly was not the news he had been hoping for. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Abby said, moving around her computers to face the plasma directly. She began to flip through documents already preloaded on the screen. "I scanned the symbols on the shard and ran it through a program McGee and wrote that translates foreign and ancient languages to English. Again, nada. Nothing in the databank on this one, Bossman. This language doesn't exist, or we just discovered a new one. I'm going with a new one, because that means I can name it!"

"How is this good news, Abby?" Gibbs asked.

"It's not, really. But I know what killed Petty Officer Mitchell."

"Shouldn't that have been the first thing out of your mouth?"

"But Gibbs! I wouldn't have anything to lead up to if I did that! Okay. This is what makes this shard really, really freaky," Abby said as she walked over and picked up the small evidence bag. "This thing is radioactive."

Gibbs looked stunned. "Radioactive? How?"

"I don't know. But it's a weird radiation. It's not the atomic bomb type radioactive. In fact, the signature it gives off doesn't even show up on a dosimeter."

"So then how do you know it's radioactive?"

Abby picked up her lunch, formerly a turkey sandwich. "Because it cooked my lunch."

Gibbs looked at Abby's turkey sandwich, now a charred and unrecognizably blackened piece of meat resembling a hockey puck. "Are we in any danger?"

"I don't think so. It's so weird, Gibbs. I was nuking my turkey for lunch, and the shard was on the table near to the microwave. As soon as I turned it on, the microwave quadrupled its power output. It's almost like it's _alive_," Abby said with a wave of her fingers.

"You're going to have to do better than that, Abby," Gibbs responded.

The forensic tech sighed. "It seems like it picks when it wants to give off its radiation, and even then I think it's some type of mechanical radiation. I don't know. I'm still working out the details. I do know for sure that some of my machines have been going crazy since Ducky brought that thing to me a couple hours ago. It's like things have been humming with extra electricity."

"What does this have to do with PO Mitchell?"

"Well, if the proximity of the shard can do this to my turkey sandwich, what do you think it did to Mitchell's insides?" Abby asked. "I'm not sure how it ended up in Mitchell in the first place, but my best guess is that he swallowed it. Maybe he didn't want someone to find it," Abby said with a shrug.

"Thanks, Abby," Gibbs said as he handed her a large Caf-pow! and a platonic peck on the cheek.

"No problemo, Bossman. Oh, and McGee wants to see you. He's in my office with that research you wanted. Are you going to tell me what you think is going on?" Abby asked as she followed Gibbs to her office adjacent the ballistics lab as he went to check on McGee.

"Not until I know for sure," Gibbs tossed over his shoulder, not bothering to look back at her. As the doors slid open with a hiss and a beep, McGee looked up from his cyber sleuthing to greet his boss.

"Boss, I've got all that research you wanted," McGee said, hesitating.

"Spit it out, McGee."

"There was kinda a lot of it. Is there something specific you want me to narrow it down to?"

"What's the most outlandish sighting on Earth?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, that's easy. About four months ago, a ton of reports came flooding in from a place called Mission City. It's near the Hoover Dam. Apparently, several hundred people claim that giant alien robots trashed their city in some sort of fist-fight to the death. They claim it was complete with jets, helicopters and big, big, guns," McGee said.

"Okay, I believe in aliens, and even _I_ don't buy that story," Abby said as she sat down at her desk next to Tim, black patent leather platform boots propped up on the table. "That's just…lame. You'd think people could come up with something better than that!"

Gibbs was deep in thought, though his face would never belie that. "That's good work, you two. McGee, Abby help DiNozzo and David upstairs. They're having trouble tracking Mitchell's friends and family down."

As Abby and McGee rode the elevator up to the ground floor, Gibbs walked by the evidence table in the lab and grabbed the shard. He had a trip to make, and he needed to make it now. The Gunny needed answers, and there was only one person on Earth he was sure would know.

**Next Up**: Gibbs has a flashback. I know I said I'd do this scene in the previous chapter, but it's just gotten too long to post in a single go. I wanted to make sure I did justice to Gibbs' Gulf War experience with the Autobots, so I'm giving it its own chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: So, at this point, suspend canon on timelines for the movie a bit. What if the Autobots had shown up on Earth once before?

I figured if they were here in late 1990 or early 1991, they would have probably looked different than they did in the 2007 movie. So, for this chapter's purpose, think 1984 animated cartoon appearances with 2007 movie personalities. I hope you all don't find Gibbs too out of character in this chapter, but 17 years can really change a person. In Desert Storm, I thought he'd be very brash, way more impulsive, much more emotional and less in control than he is with NCIS, so that's how I wrote him.

This chapter ended up being way more violent than I had originally anticipated, hence the rating change. However, having rewatched the 2007 Transformers movie, I realized that the Scorponok attack _was_ really intense. This chapter was supposed to originally be posted with as an addition to chapter 3, but it just kept growing, just like the plot bunny I had for this story.

**Disclaimer**: *checks birth certificate* Nope. My name isn't Michael Bay or Don P. Bellasario. None of this stuff is mine.

**Chapter 4**

Washington, D.C.

Gibbs strode purposefully through the NCIS motor pool, a look of determination on his face. Truth be told, the lettering on the shard Palmer had pulled out of PO Mitchell was something he thought he'd never see again. Hell, he wasn't even sure that he'd actually _seen_ the ancient writing with his own eyes or if it was just an injury induced hallucination.

Sliding into the driver's seat of his issued Charger, Gibbs took a few moments to compose his racing mind. If this piece of alien metal nestled safely in his coat pocket was legit, it would mean his experience in Desert Storm had actually been real, that his memory wasn't playing tricks on him. Putting the car in drive and peeling out at his normal high rate of speed onto the D.C. streets, Gibbs set out toward the Pentagon. In a rare moment of idleness as he drove, Gibbs let his mind wander back seventeen years to the First Gulf War.

//Flashback//

"_Gunny!" Major Will Ryan trotted up to Gibbs as the Gunnery Sergeant made his way through the mess line._

"_Major." Gibbs said as he came to attention, Ryan dismissing him just as quickly. "What can I do for you, sir?"_

_Ryan motioned for the two to sit, choosing a table well away from any curious eyes or ears. "I need a favor from you, Gunny. I have a mission I need you on. Now I know you just came back in from the cold, but this one came straight from the top. Brass wants my best team on it, and you're my best sniper."_

"_What's the mission, sir?" Gibbs said with no hesitation as he dug into his bread._

_Ryan smiled. "That's the kind of Marine I like. Engineers radioed in reports of wide and varied seismic activity in the desert northwest of Hafar al Batin. Now, we're talking big, Gunny. And fast. They wanted me to send a team to check it out."_

"_I'm up for the job, sir."_

"_Good. Be ready tonight. We're running a six man crew. Your helo leaves at 2200 local. Lieutenant Cameron's going to sit this one out with that bum leg of his, so you'll be going with Lieutenant Stemner," Ryan said as he stood from behind the table. "Hoo-rah, Gunny."_

"_Hoo-rah, sir."_

_Loaded and geared up, Bravo team sat quietly in the helicopter as it cut its way through the inky darkness of the desert night. The copilot turned and held up two fingers, signaling two minutes to drop zone._

_Lieutenant Stemner stood to do a final once over with his team. "All right! We hit the ground running. Remember, command said we're looking for something that's creating large seismic waves. It's possibly a new weapon of Saddam Insane's for disorienting electronics and troops. Think EMP on a budget, gentlemen. You all know your assignments, so let's do this like Marines."_

_A chorus of 'yes, sirs' answered his instructions._

_The helicopter landed and deposited its cargo. Upon dustoff, Lieutenant Stemner, Gunnery Sergeant. Gibbs, Staff Sergeant. Malone, Corporal. Johnston and Private First Class Opatz and Stone all set off northeast into the Saudi Arabian night. The team had humped it about a click before they made it to the last point of contact, an old abandoned village. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Stemner ordered the team to take a knee and grab some water. Gibbs checked his compass and found Bravo team was only about thirty kilometers from the Iraqi border._

_If the Iraqi dictator was running a weapons development program, this would be a perfect place to do it. The village comprised really of only a dozen or so buildings, a small well in the center and an area to pray toward the west. Surrounding the structures was a three-foot tall wall, presumably to keep in the animals. It was remote, no one around and most importantly, no witnesses._

"_Gunny," Stemner said from beside Gibbs. "I want to set up shop here and see if these rumors have any balls. This is the point of origin for eighty percent of this shit, so I would venture a likely guess that our friends would come back to familiar territory."_

_Gibbs looked around, the stars and moon lighting up the desert just enough to see about the length of a football field. "Roger that, sir. I see some hills over to the West that look mighty cozy. There's a small outcropping of rocks along with a little cave that would give me great cover. If the rest of the team digs in here, I can provide any support we might need."_

"_That sounds like a plan, Gunny. Make it happen," Stemner said. _

"_You got, sir," Gibbs responded._

_Two hours later, Bravo team was firmly entrenched in the small huts dotting the village, and all traces of their arrival had been erased. Stemner had assigned two-hour watches, and it was Gibbs' turn to keep his eye out for trouble. From his slightly elevated position on the ridge roughly fifty yards from his teammates, Gibbs began his patrol through his sniper scope._

_Four hours after arriving at their location, at around 0300, Gibbs was preparing to change over the watch to Private Stone when all hell broke loose. One minute and twenty-three seconds. That was all it took to change Gibbs' life forever._

_As Gibbs was relaying his watch information to Private Stone, the Gunny started feeling strange vibrations through his body. Since he was lying prone on his belly, he felt it more clearly._

"_Lieutenant, did you just feel that?" Gibbs spoke into his radio._

"_Negative, Gunny. What was it?"_

"_I don't know, sir, but it sure felt like a seismic shake! Did sensors pick anything up?" Gibbs responded._

_A pause. Gibbs assumed Stemner was checking his equipment. "Uh, negative again, Gunny."_

"_Sir, that's odd. I swear I felt somet---" Gibbs never got to finish his thought. Up from the desert floor thirty yards from Gibbs' position, something shot out that could only be described as a huge, metal scorpion with demonic red eyes. It immediately began shooting and stabbing at Bravo team._

"_HOLY FUCK! Marines, OPEN FIRE!!" Gibbs heard Stemner's frantic order over his comm. channel._

_Not needing to be told twice, Gibbs started shooting as fast as his single shot, bolt-action rifle would allow. The Gunny didn't have time to ponder what he was shooting, only to look at where he was aiming. Only when one of the sniper's shots bounced off what looked to be the side of the creature's throat did Gibbs get a look at what he and his small team were up against._

_The creature – whatever it was, it was huge. Possibly thirty feet long if he stretched out, it looked like a scorpion from Earth, but with spinning claws attached to the arms and some sort of large gun instead of a stinger on its tail. It was a machine, but it seemed alive and aware. Gibbs would never forget the crimson colored eyes that turned to glare in his direction with that lucky shot. They would be the object of his nightmares for years to come, and something he truly wished he could just forget._

_Not even thirty seconds in and Gibbs knew his team was in big trouble. Private Stone was dead, never even having a chance to arm himself. As soon as the bogey (Gibbs refused to say alien, even though it resembled one) punched through the sand, Stone had been impaled through the chest by its tail. Then the creature haphazardly tossed the young Marine's body twenty yards in Gibbs' direction. Stone died before he hit the ground, eyes open and frightened, body a mess of blood and broken bones._

_Another transmission crackled over the lines. "I'm hit! I'm hit!" This time, it was Staff Sergeant Malone's cry. Corporal Johnston and Private Opatz looked frantically around._

"_Covering fire!" Opatz yelled toward Lieutenant Stemner. The sound of heavy caliber machine gun fire from the unknown being rippled through the desert night._

_The Bravo team commander nodded his head vigorously as he jammed a new magazine into his M-4 and primed the grenade launcher. "Go!" Gibbs turned his rifle to try and fire in time with his Lieutenant._

_The sound of whizzing and popping bullets just over their heads, Opatz and Johnston made their way toward the prone figure of Malone, the Staff Sergeant nearly unconscious from blood loss. The two Marines had managed to drag their comrade about fifteen feet before the tail of the scorpion curled ominously upward. Opatz and Johnston had only a second to react before a well-placed bomb hit at their feet. _

_The sand rained red._

"_Gunny! I'm in deep shit here! I'm out of ammo! I'm going to try and make it to the hills!" Stemner's panicked voice came over the radio._

"_I'll cover you, sir!" Gibbs shouted, hoping like hell at least one of them might make it. Stemner dropped his empty rifle and went for his .45. Knowing it was virtually useless against whatever it was they were fighting, Stemner had little choice. It was all the Lieutenant had left. Taking a deep breath, he made a run for it._

_Gibbs watched the horrible sight through his scope. As the team's Gunny and sniper, he tried to protect his commander the best he could. But not even the grenade rounds had done any significant damage to the creature, let alone the puny 5.56 Nato rifle rounds fired from the standard issue M-16. The M-16 was designed for urban warfare, for clearing rooms and short-range firefights. At any kind of scoped distance, a 5.56 bullet would take down a deer, but certainly not…that. _

_As Stemner got up to run, the huge creature looked at Gibbs and almost smiled, as if to tell the Gunnery Sergeant it wanted to toy with the humans. The Bravo team commander was able to hurdle the wall and make it about ten yards before a massive, spinning claw hit the Lieutenant from behind. He died without making a sound. _

_Gibbs knew he was next. He wasn't a religious man by any means, but he still believed in God and heaven. "Lord, just make it quick," he said, taking a glance skyward. As he said that, he heard the sound of projectiles being released, and then the sound of the overhang, the one he thought would be such great cover, give way under the stress. The Gunny felt the rocks raining down on him, and finally…darkness._

_Gibbs felt consciousness slowly returning to him. As he tried to open his eyes, brightness immediately assaulted them. Wincing, Gibbs tried to sit up, only to be held down by significant pain and a gentle force on his chest. He tried to yell, but it only came out as a strangled groan._

"_Take it easy," A gruff voice said off to his left. "We're just here to help you, but you need to let me do my job."_

_The Gunny blinked hard a couple of times to clear his vision, thinking the white halos surrounding the random shapes he was seeing was a result of a good conk on the head from whatever ran him over. It did no good; the white spots remained adamantly in his field of vision. Eventually, Gibbs figured out that it must be a light shining down on him as dawn had yet to break over the horizon._

"_Water," Gibbs croaked. A canteen appeared in front of his face._

"_Careful, now. Slowly," the gruff voice said once again. "I just finished patching you up. I don't want to have to do it again."_

"_Who are you guys?" Gibbs asked, his voice clearing from the water he was slowly sipping. "And would it kill you to douse the lights?"_

_Gibbs heard a shuffling sound as his caretaker got to his feet, though the bright light blinding him from seeing his rescuers remained. From high above his head, he heard snippets of a conversation and three distinct voices._

"_Do you think he is strong enough to see us, Ratchet?" a deep male baritone rumbled high over Gibbs' head. "Will he understand?"_

"_I'm not sure. I don't know what he saw." That was the voice of his caretaker. _

"_We need answers." A third one joined in the conversation, a clipped tone to his words. "This creature might be able to lead us to Scorponok."_

_Trying desperately to find his feet, Gibbs managed to haul himself to his knees before vertigo butted its way back in on his balance. Settling for kneeling and leaning back on his haunches, Gibbs yelled up, his voice getting louder with each sentence. "Excuse me! I'm still here, and I can hear you! Who the hell are you? And turn off that goddamn light!" A couple of seconds of silence, and then the light clicked off, finally giving the Gunny a clear look at his rescuers._

_Gibbs nearly passed out. Again. _

_Craning his neck high above, Gibbs looked directly up at three gigantic alien robots that were, in turn, staring down at him. Wiping his hand over his eyes to be sure they were functioning properly, Gibbs looked a second time. Yep. They were still there. Three curious pairs of bright blue alien optics met Gibbs' bulging human ones. Hands searching instinctively for his rifle, Gibbs' brain was whirling a thousand miles a minute. He was stopped in his quest to arm himself as the tallest of the robots, a blue and red one, spoke._

"_There is no need for that. We are not here to harm you," he said. Gibbs recognized the voice as the one that was asking "Ratchet" if the Gunny would be okay._

_This had to be a dream. A really weird one, but still a dream nonetheless. Slowing down to think, Gibbs only responded after taking a very deep and very shaky breath. If this is what Saddam Hussein was working on, Gibbs had to give the bastard credit for ingenuity. The Gunny just didn't believe that the moron was capable of technology so advanced. This was way beyond EMPs and seismic waves._

"_Well, I don't think you're going to kill me because you wouldn't have bothered to help me then. That's a start."_

"_It is, indeed," the big one nodded. "My name is Optimus Prime, and these are my officers. Ratchet, my medic, and Ironhide, my weapons specialist," Prime said as he gestured to a red and white robot and a red and grey robot respectively._

"_Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, United States Marine Corps," Gibbs said, finally finding his feet and his balance. _

_Gibbs took a moment to study all three of the robots, the biggest one in particular. He was the one the Gunny assumed to be in charge. Optimus Prime was huge, at least from a human standpoint. Roughly thirty feet tall, he was most certainly alien, but had an almost humanoid look about him. He had blue and white legs, a broad, red chest with what looked to be twin windshields embedded in the pectoral area, and red arms with blue hands. Prime's head reminded the Gunny of the pictures he had seen of Japanese Samurai, with the helmet and adorning fixtures._

_The other two robots, aside from the color differences, looked surprisingly similar to their leader. Gibbs noted with interest that, like humans, each robot was constructed differently in size, height and mass, probably conducive to whatever job they did. But, as amusing as they were, the most striking aspect of looking directly up at three gigantic alien robots were their eyes, or what Gibbs would have considered to be their eyes. Each robot had glowing blue eyes, intelligent but jaded. Gibbs couldn't completely tell from his vantage point at their feet, but he guessed there were little tiny individual moving parts that allowed superior vision._

_Finally forcing his mouth to work, Gibbs asked, "What the hell are you?"_

"_We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," Prime said._

"_Uh, huh," Gibbs said incredulously, nodding his head in shocked comprehension. "That like, another planet or something?"_

_The red and grey one, Ironhide, said, "Yes. But just call us Autobots. It's easier."_

"_Autobots. From Cybertron. Great," Gibbs said. Suddenly remembering the entire reason he was out in the middle of the desert, Gibbs' face darkened with anger, the alarm at being confronted by the Autobots rapidly dissipating. "If you're here, then what the FUCK was that back there? My team was slaughtered by something that looked a lot like you!"_

_A hissing could be heard coming from the vents of Optimus Prime in a kind of mechanical sigh. "That was Scorponok. He is one of our kind, but just not of our faction. We tracked him to your planet and we hoped to get here before he did. Unfortunately, that was not the case."_

"_No shit! And I lost good friends because of that!" Gibbs' anger was about to get the better of him, his emotions nearing the boiling point. It had been a tough, long day, and it didn't look like it was going end any time soon._

"_Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we are truly sorry for what happened. If we could have prevented it, we would have," Ratchet said as he moved around to Gibbs' left. "But this war, the reason Scorponok was here, has been going on for millions of your years. We are not strangers to loss."_

"_Maybe you should just explain it to him," Ironhide said with a wave of a massive hand. _

_Prime nodded his acquiescence, and began to speak. Gibbs sat down in the sand, shaded by Ratchet and Ironhide's shadows, and listened to leader lay it all out. The Gunny learned about the Autobots and the Decepticons, Megatron and Prime and their constant battle, and the Allspark, the source of Cybertronian life._

_As Prime finished his monologue, Gibbs blew out a big breath. Despite his distress and awe in regards to the Autobots, his gut told the Gunny to trust the strange beings. "So that…thing, that Decepticon. He was here looking for the same thing you want. Did you find it?"_

_Ironhide shook his head. "No, though we haven't looked yet. We found you under a large pile of rocks and have been attending to you since."_

"_Scorponok was sent here to look for the cube and he will not leave until he finds it, so it still exists somewhere on Earth," Ratchet added. "We only know it's here in what you call a desert."_

_Gibbs snorted. "Well, if that's all the intel you have, your military intelligence sucks. There are a ton of deserts on this planet, and not all on the same continent. Maybe you should have studied a map before you landed," he added sarcastically._

"_We were just following Scorponok," Ironhide ground out, barely resisting the urge to pummel the small human. Gibbs waved his hand dismissively._

"_Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we tell you all of this only because you survived an attack from one of the most ruthless and deadly Decepticons there is. We believe you deserve at least an explanation," Prime stated matter of factly, trying to deescalate the growing tension._

"_Yeah, and I appreciate that, but I'd rather you just point me in the direction of the nearest U.S. base, and I'll be on my way," Gibbs said and then mumbled under his breath, "To the biggest case of bourbon the world has ever seen."_

"_Scorponok is still in the desert, and he will want to finish what he started. It's not safe," Ratchet said._

_Gibbs moved toward his dented helmet and shredded body armor. "I'll take my chances, thanks."_

_A large metallic foot came down with enough force to shake the ground directly in front of him. Gibbs looked up into the optics of Ironhide._

"_Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, we need to know what you know. Talk," Ironhide said gruffly, his heavily armored arms crossed over his chest. Bedside manner was not something anyone could ever accuse Ironhide of having. _

_Gibbs' emotions rollercoastered once more. "Talk? You want me to talk?! All right! I was ordered out here for a routine check of the area, when this metallic demon came flying out of the sand. He killed my team, all five men, and toyed with us. He looked right at me when he killed my Lieutenant, almost daring me to help him. I'm a Marine! We don't leave people behind, and it…" Gibbs trailed off as he sank down back into the sand. His voice quieted considerably. "It killed them all and it did it for fun. I watched it all happen and I couldn't do a fucking thing to stop it."_

"_Sacrifices in war are often great. How we respond to them writes our true nature," Prime said stoically, his optics softening with understanding as he gazed out toward the stars. Apparently, war touched all beings in the same way: with hurt, sorrow and regret. _

_Gibbs jumped to his feet again. "But I didn't ask to be here! I appreciate the help and the fact that you saved my life, but this," he gestured toward the Autobots, "is not what I'm trained to fight! Hell, I don't even believe in aliens!"_

"_I understand this new revelation is overwhelming, but time is important. We need your help in locating Scorponok so we may neutralize him and find out what he knows. We have very little knowledge of Earth, as technology here is nowhere near as advanced as our own," Prime said. "I ask you soldier to soldier for you help, for Scorponok will not stop until he accomplishes his mission or is stopped by us."_

_Gibbs sighed. An internal battle raged. He knew Col. Ryan had men out looking for him, men whose lives he was endangering by not reporting his status. But, that thing, the Decepticon that had massacred his squad deserved some pain for all he did. And if the Autobots didn't find Scorponok…Gibbs shuddered when he thought of all the soldiers that may die needlessly because of it._

_Squaring his shoulders, Gibbs turned toward the Autobot leader. "All right. Tell me what you need."_

_Optimus smiled behind his faceplate. "Just show me where he was, and tell me about Earth."_

_An hour later, Gibbs finished debriefing the Autobots on what he knew about Scorponok and had spent the majority of the time teaching the Autobots as much as his limited knowledge would allow about Earth, its people and customs, and geography. The Autobots looked pleased with the information and Gibbs desperately hoped it would help._

_After obtaining the information they needed, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide and Gibbs set to the grim task of retrieving the remains of the five fallen Marines killed in the attack perpetrated by Scorponok. Each went about their assignment silently, Ironhide and Prime gently carrying each body to Ratchet, who cleaned and covered the fatalities as best he could with the extremely limited supplies Gibbs was able to scavenge from the village. The Gunny gathered any personal effects he could find, along with the dog tags of each man, all the while trying desperately not to cry. He tucked each item with reverence into the innermost pocked of his uniform, intent on the family members of his fallen comrades receiving the letters personally. In a gesture of understanding among soldiers, Ironhide provided Gibbs with the exact latitude and longitude coordinates of the five men so they could be retrieved and returned home to their families stateside._

_Their unfavorable duty completed, the Autobots stood back and allowed Gibbs some time alone to grieve for his lost friends. They observed the Gunny take each man's boots and helmets, and with their rifles, form an impromptu grave marker. Five sets of empty boots symbolically lined the desert floor against the wall that had just hours ago been their perimeter. Now, it was where the men were laid to rest. The memorials lined from left to right in order of rank, each rank pin polished as best Gibbs could manage and affixed to each man's helmet. The sentiment was not lost on the Cybertronians, as they themselves had taken part in too many ceremonies that were chillingly similar. The language was different, the species was different, but the pain and grief of losing close friends was the same. Each Autobot felt a shiver go through their bodies right to their respective sparks as they watched the Gunny struggle to maintain his composure._

_As the Autobots knelt down to show their respect to the five humans who had paid the ultimate price for of their war, Gibbs grabbed his rifle that had, surprisingly, survived the rock slide. Jamming five rounds in the right pocket of his BDUs, Gibbs gave the call to order, aim and fire as he shot and reloaded five rounds in a salute to each individual man who died. Only this time, he didn't try to stop the tears, nor did he hide them as they slid down his face._

_Prime remained kneeling as Gibbs controlled his emotions once again, the mask of stoic aloofness, the one the Autotbot commander knew well, slid its way back on to the Gunny's face. As he looked back to thank Prime, Gibbs noticed some strange symbols engraved on the side of the massive leader's head. He assumed it to be their language, though he never did get to ask Optimus what it said. Before he could think of a proper way to form his question, Prime stood up in front of the Gunny._

"_We've been monitoring radio transmissions in the area. There is a search party out looking for you and your team. We will take you friendly area where you can rejoin your people," Optimus said as he took a step back from the Gunny. "Please stand back."_

_A series of clicks and clangs and whirs, and the thirty foot tall sentient robot that was standing before him seconds ago had somehow changed and crammed himself into a red cab over semi truck._

_His eyebrows at his hairline, Gibbs said, "That was about the last thing I was expecting."_

"_I do apologize for leaving that part out," Prime said with a lightness in his tone as Gibbs hauled himself up the steps of the Autobot leader._

"_I was wondering how you didn't start an international panic with your presence," Gibbs responded as he settled himself into the plush driver's seat. The Gunny let out an amused chuckle. It felt extremely odd sitting in a sentient alien robot that turned into a truck. "That's pretty damn ingenious if you ask me."_

_A low hum of agreement originated from Prime's speakers. "Rest now. We have a couple hour's drive ahead of us, and I suggest you use it to recharge."_

_Gibbs nodded his acquiescence and dozed off in the driver's seat of Prime's cabin. When he awoke nearly two hours later, he immediately was able to make out the outskirts of Riyadh, Gibbs' unit's staging area. Pulling off to the side of the road, Prime and his officers, both in transformed vehicles akin to Japanese vans, cut their engines._

"_I need to ask you a small favor, Gunnery Sergeant." Prime's deep voice filled the tiny, enclosed space. Gibbs gave a slight nod of his head and the voice emanating from the speakers of the cab continued. "We wish to remain on Earth as anonymously as possible, hence the use of our alternate forms. If you could preserve our secret, we would be greatly obliged."_

_Gibbs snorted a laugh. "Don't worry. If I told my CO we were attacked by a giant alien scorpion and then I met three more that were chasing said scorpion, he'd probably send to Bethesda for permanent residence in a padded room." Gibbs looked down at his hands, still remembering the way his team was cut down. "Still not so sure I believe it myself, and I was there."_

"_You lost good men. Friends," Prime said, empathy littering the leader's words._

"_Yes. Friends that had families that deserve an explanation. And I know they can never get the real truth, but can they at least a little payback? Can you do that for me? For my team?" Gibbs asked earnestly._

_Prime shifted on his wheels, straightening up as much as his alt form would allow. "I can guarantee that, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs." Gibbs nodded his head, satisfied with Prime's promise._

"_Oh, and Mr., uh? --" Gibbs trailed off, unsure as to how to address the massive leader._

"_Call me Optimus," he said, sensing Gibbs' confusion. "Or Prime if you want to be formal."_

"_Okay, then Optimus," Gibbs asked as he hopped out of his seat. "You know you'd be a lot less intimidating to people if you got down on their level to talk to them, right?"_

"_Duly noted, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I wish you the best of luck, and I thank you for your help," Prime said. Gibbs could hear a smile in the smooth baritone voice._

"_Well, if our paths ever cross again, I hope you'd remember me. And it's just Gibbs or Gunny," Gibbs said as he grabbed what remained of his destroyed gear from the space in the rear of the sleeper. "I certainly won't forget you."_

_A laugh came from the semi truck. "Thank you, Gunny."_

_Gibbs took a deep breath and began walking in the general direction of the base. "Now, all I have to do is figure out how to explain this one to command."_

//End Flashback//

Special Agent Gibbs waltzed through Pentagon security, waving his badge at each checkpoint, and headed up to the fourth floor of the C ring. Going down the hallway, Gibbs walked right past the secretary and stopped her with one glare. Arriving in front of the final door, he paused just long enough to turn the handle. As the surprised occupant of the office looked up in outrage and shock, Gibbs strode past the oversized bookcases and laid both hands on the desk of Secretary of Defense John Keller.

"Gibbs! What the hell?" Keller asked, pulling his reader glasses off his nose. "Who gave you the right to just barge into my office without notice?"

Gibbs stepped back, his glare still firmly entrenched on his features. Digging into his pocket, Gibbs slapped the shard found in PO Mitchell on Keller's desk.

"They're back, John."

**Next Up**: Gibbs proves the second 'B' is really for 'Bastard' and the NCIS team finally meets the Autobots. Hey! Two chapters in as many days! If you were to clickity click that little button right there that says, "review", it might spur me to write a little faster…


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: I've been trying to write from both the Autobot perspective and from the NCIS perspective. Please let me know if it's too choppy and I'll just use one. Oh, and this is not Keller's only appearance in this story. Also, parts of this chapter are probably a bit extraneous, but I felt I needed something lighter since Chapter 4 was so heavy. For those of you who are familiar with hummergrey's "If An Autobot" and Tenshi of Light's "Autobot Pranks", you'll recognize the shenanigans. Enjoy!

Finally, I'm thinking about moving this fic over to the NCIS category. Mistake? Let me know.

:blah, blah: - _internal comm systems of the Autobots_

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, sadly. But a girl can dream, can't she?

**Chapter 5**

Washington, D.C.

Keller set the folder down he was pursuing. Linking his hands behind his head, the Secretary of Defense leaned back in his chair to meet the eyes of the intense NCIS agent. He hoped this went well. Gibbs was not well known for his patience.

"Jethro, have a seat."

"I'd rather stand. Tell my why," Gibbs said, his fingers still firmly planted on Keller's desk, his body leaning forward as he challenged the SECDEF.

"Why, what?"

"_Why_ are they back here?" Gibbs growled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Keller lied smoothly. He hadn't spent his entire adult life in politics and not learned how to tell a little white lie now and again, all the while looking damn convincing as he did it.

"Bullshit! I knew these symbols as soon as I saw them! But I couldn't tell my team what they were because it's classified!" Gibbs yelled. "You know you saw those same symbols, or have you forgotten about that?"

Keller inwardly sighed. Of course he hadn't forgotten. Private First Class Matthew Opatz was his nephew, though having raised the young man from an early age, Keller viewed Matthew more as a son. Matthew was also the one Keller was sure would have made something of himself had he not been killed in that remote Saudi Arabian village seventeen years previous. But, as Keller had often mused, some good came out of Matthew's death in the form of a Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant.

Still grieving from the loss of his nephew, John and his wife Nancy were surprised at their home one fall day by a man in his early 30s wearing a Marine Corps dress uniform and sporting the rank insignias of Gunnery Sergeant. Black shoes polished brightly and with every medal shined and in place on the spotless midnight blue jacket, he carried with him a letter and personal items with a look of haunted reservation in his eyes. The Kellers, realizing he was hand delivering the last of Matthew's personal effects, invited the messenger into their home.

Gibbs had told the then-senator Keller everything he could, though he left out the fact that the enemy was a giant alien robot from the deep reaches of space. He said nothing untrue; Matthew Opatz died a brave and honorable death defending his country and his fellow Marines, and that was precisely what the Gunny told the grieving family. Though Keller felt the young man was holding back, he decided not to push. There were just some things he felt should remain between soldiers, and as a politician, surmised he had no right to know. Keller was inordinately thankful for Gibbs' visit, as it gave the Senator some much-needed closure to bridge the final connection between the field and the after-action report. He told Gibbs to stay in touch, and surprisingly, the Gunny had.

Over the years, the two had forged a strong working relationship with one another as they both rose through the ranks of their personal careers. Keller had proven often to Gibbs that life as a politician usually meant full disclosure was next to impossible. In turn, Keller learned that the second 'B' in Gibbs' name really did stand most time for 'Bastard'. At the moment, Gibbs was glad for that camaraderie with the SECDEF, as the former Gunny was probably asking for information he had any right to know.

Gathering his paperwork together and laying them on his blotter, Keller leveled Gibbs with a gaze and motioned with his head once again for the NCIS special agent to sit. This time, Gibbs obliged. Reaching into the cabinet on the lower left hand portion of his oversized desk, the SECDEF pulled out a crystal glass and a bottle of expensive bourbon stashed there for emergency use. Pouring a glass, he offered one to Gibbs. When the NCIS agent shook his head to the negative, Keller walked over to the coffee maker and poured Gibbs a cup.

"Little early for that, isn't it?" Gibbs asked, accepting the coffee and checking his watch. Only 1600 and Keller already needed liquid fortification.

Keller scoffed. "You know as well as I do there is no such thing as 'too early'." The two men drank in companionable silence for a couple of brief moments.

"You gonna tell me what you know or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" Gibbs asked as he took a sip of the top shelf brand of Kona coffee. In both Bourbon and coffee, Keller had good tastes.

Leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs, Keller looked Gibbs right in the eye. "Depends on why you're asking," Keller said noncommittally. The SECDEF leaned forward again to pick up the evidence bag that had been tossed on his desk. "Where did you get this, Gibbs?"

"Depends on what you're willing to tell me," Gibbs retorted. Shifting he said, "My team pulled it out of a dead Navy Petty Officer this morning."

"And, what did you tell them?" Keller asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What was I supposed to tell them?" Gibbs asked sarcastically.

"Nothing."

"Well, nothing's exactly what I said," Gibbs bellowed.

"That's good, Gibbs. Real good," Keller said.

Gibbs was not impressed. Slamming his hand down on Keller's desk, Gibbs yelled, "Oh, come on, John. Cut the crap! You and I both know where that little piece of metal came from, so spill it. _Now_."

Keller fidgeted with the evidence bag before he continued. "I could tell you, but it would be easier to show you."

"Just tell me what's going on, _sir_," Gibbs practically growled out putting a sarcastic emphasis on the 'sir'. His patience was slipping quickly and he knew it. "I don't have time for political mind fucks. I have a case to solve and I would like to do it before I'm ready to retire!"

"Didn't you already do that, Gibbs?" The SECDEF couldn't resist the little dig. Gibbs had left that door way too far open for him not to come charging though.

"This is not about me, John! Stop deflecting the goddamn issue!" Gibbs yelled through clenched teeth.

Seeing he wasn't going to win, Keller relented, nibbling nervously on his lip. "I don't want to lie to you, Jethro. They're here."

The Gunny barely resisted the urge to leap across the extravagantly expensive mahogany desk and pummel the very life out of one of the world's most powerful politicians. Instead, he settled for flexing his right hand in and out of tight fist. Gibbs' voice came out eerily quiet, though the bulging vein in his forehead gave away his level of anger. "So you've known all this time. Did you bother to tell _them_ about your knowledge of their last rendezvous on Earth, or did you leave that part out?"

Keller shifted minutely in his seat, but his fidget screamed an answer to the Gunny as loud as a howitzer at close range. Forcing himself to look into Gibbs' intimidating gaze, Keller said, "I thought it would be best if they believed they had a clean slate with me. Our relationship has been strained enough as it is."

"Oh, I can't imagine why that would be!" Gibbs threw out sarcastically, words dripping with disdain. "Now, I'm going to ask you one more time. _What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On_?"

Keller picked up his phone. Excusing his secretary for the day, he first told her to make certain the SECDEF would have no further interruptions. Closing his office door tightly, Keller sat back down to face Gibbs. "Did you hear about Mission City?"

Though he had an idea from Abby and McGee, Gibbs was still upset at his comrade's inability to play nice. "Enlighten me."

"A few months ago, a young man named Sam Witwicky was approached by a small group of Autobots to try and find their source of life. They believed it was here on Earth. A base in Qatar was attacked at the same time, and that's how I got dragged into it. Along the way, we discovered a top-secret group, called Sector Seven that had not only found the Cube, but the leader of the opposing faction. A fight broke out at Mission City, the Decepticon leader, Megatron, somehow was freed from stasis, and the rest I'm sure you've read about on the internet."

Gibbs gave Keller a look of feigned innocence. "What would I know about this?"

"Oh, stop it Gibbs. If you hadn't read at least a few of the rumors, you wouldn't be here." Gibbs nodded in acquiescence as Keller continued. "I know we didn't contain all the leaks from that clusterfuck of an operation, but most of what rumors swirling around about that place are true. We are working with the Autobots to keep Earth safe."

Finally satisfied with the headway he was making, Gibbs began to ask questions. "So what is it my team found?"

Instead of answering, Keller stood up. "Come with me."

Keller motioned Gibbs to follow. Strolling around the Pentagon, he led his old compatriot through several security checkpoints before finally arriving at his destination in the bowels of the building. Sitting at a desk surrounded by computers and electronic gizmos were two people, a blonde haired young lady and an equally young but incredibly baby faced black man. Both nodded to Keller as he entered.

"Maggie, Glen, I want you to meet someone. This is NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Gibbs, this is Maggie Marsden and Glen Whitmann, our computer specialists. I believe he has something you two will want to see," Keller said as both Maggie and Glen stood to shake Gibbs' hand. Instead of a handshake, Maggie and Glen could only stare helplessly as Gibbs dropped the shard on the table.

Maggie was the first one to recover, her Australian accent thickening with surprise. "Agent Gibbs! Where did you get this?"

Gibbs leaned forward, his hands on the table much as he did with Keller. His voice was quiet, and without any patience left whatsoever. "I pulled it out of dead Navy Petty Officer this morning. The man has no organs left in his body. It was making our lab go crazy. Now, I know these symbols because I know about the Autobots. I need you tell me what the hell they're doing back on Earth!"

Both computer geeks flapped their jaws like fish out of water. "Uh, we-- Sir?" Glen looked to Keller for approval.

"Go ahead, Glen. He's fine," Keller said with a little smile. Gibbs was scaring the subordinates. There was a surprise.

"They were looking for this," Maggie said as tenderly picked up the evidence bag. "The Autobots were here because of this, the Allspark, and the Decepticons nearly beat them to it."

Gibbs stopped them. "Wait. _This_ is the Allspark?"

"Yeah. Well part of it, anyway. Hey! How do you know what the Allspark is?" Glen asked.

"Long story," Gibbs replied, his voice giving no question to the fact he was going to say nothing more about it. "Continue."

Keller interjected to give Gibbs the necessary information. "Megatron was killed when Sam shoved the Cube into his chest, and it apparently fragmented on contact. After Mission City, we dropped Megatron and a couple other deceased Decepticons into the Laurentian Abyss with the help of Stennis crew."

"That's the best you could do? The bottom of the ocean?" Gibbs asked.

"Gibbs, we didn't know what else to do with them other than to shoot them back off into space," Keller said lamely. "It's only been in the last month or so we started to realize there may have been a…security breech on the ship."

"Security breech? How so?" Gibbs asked.

"We thought only one piece of the Allspark survived Megatron's offlining. We also thought we had the bodies of the Decepticons under sufficient lock and key. We were apparently wrong on both counts, as the shard you hold in your hands proves," Keller said, trying to keep the internal cringe out of his voice.

Gibbs shifted again, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. The irritated look on his face remained. "What does that mean?"

"Well, we uncovered a plan by the remaining Decepticon to try and find as many pieces of the Allspark as possible to try and resurrect their leader. We were actually heading out to Diego Garcia early tomorrow morning to work closer with the Autobots so we can try and figure this out," Maggie said, stepping in for her boss.

Keller suddenly got an idea.

"Gibbs, can you have your team meet you at Andrews tomorrow morning by 0500? Tell them to pack for a week. I need you to figure out how this shard got from the Stennis to your Petty Officer, and I can't think of any other team I would rather have it. Besides, you'll get to see a familiar face or two."

Gibbs swore in a way only a Marine could: loudly and vehemently.

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

Optimus Prime looked out the massive door of his office toward the tarmac at the approaching C-130. As it taxied to a halt, the massive plane's landing lights cut through the desert dawn to illuminate the whole hanger. The Autobot leader had received a communication from SECDEF Keller regarding not only the arrival of Maggie and Glen, but also of new information regarding a previously undiscovered piece of the Allspark. The group that had uncovered the new shard was traveling with the computer experts, both due to arrive that evening. Keller had been fairly closed lipped with any additional information regarding the mystery group. He had only shared that they were from a Naval organization called NCIS and that the Prime may remember one of its members.

As the doors to the plane opened and the cargo ramp dropped, Prime internally commed Ironhide and Ratchet to meet him in the Autobot hanger to greet their new guests.

:Ironhide, Ratchet, Bumblebee, they're here. Meet in the main hanger in alt mode.: Prime heard a burst of Cybertronian clicks and whistles, Bumblebee's reply to the affirmative he would be present. Since touching the Allspark, his vocalizer had begun intermittently working. However, overuse would still tax the unit, and Bee had communicated so long in alternate forms, he didn't mind not speaking.

:I'll be there. Holoforms?: Ironhide asked through the internal communications modulation.

:No. I'll let Lennox and Epps do the talking. Ratchet, where are you?:

:I'm in Medbay with Mikaela, Prime. We're making some minor adjustments to Mudflap.:

Optimus raised an optic ridge. :Adjustments, Ratchet?:

A loud clang could be heard over the internal comm, followed by muffled Cybertronian begging. _That_ was followed by…mechanical squealing?

:I'll be there as soon as I'm done. It'll just take another minute.: Ratchet sounded like he was laboring at his task.

:Ratchet, what's going on? And what is that awful screeching in the background?:

:Skids and Mudflap are at it again.: Optimus heard Mikaela's angry voice over Ratchet's comm, yelling loudly at the Trax to, "Hold fucking still."

Prime rubbed the bridge of his nose plates. What was that human saying again? _'When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me?'_ As the Autobot commander, he thought it would be easier to keep reign over Skids and Mudflap rather than control Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Either the "Minor Twins", as the NEST base had come to call them, learned from 'Sunny and 'Sides, or they just had too much time to surf the internet. Prime thought it was probably the latter.

:What did he do this time, Ratchet?:

:The glitching idiot and his brother tried an Earth activity last night called 'cow tipping', or so they tell me.: Ratchet spoke back, exasperation clear in his voice.

:Do I even want to know?:

:Probably not, but you should.: Ratchet growled in response.

Prime shook his head and commed Ironhide once more. :'Hide, the Minor Twins are at it again. Tell Lennox to stall. Ratchet and I will be there as soon as we can.:

Cybertronian swearing was Ironhide's only response.

Switching back to Ratchet, Prime activated his comm once more. :What happened, and what the frag is cow tipping?:

:Apparently, it's when you…Or for Primus' sake, Optimus, just look it up on Youtube. Search 'Tommy Boy' and 'Cow Tipping.' I'm sure that's where they got the ridiculous idea.: Ratchet sounded both extremely pissed and highly amused at the same time, a skill of vocal inflection only the medibot had been able to master. Ratchet's response made the Autobot leader even more curious but afraid at the same time.

Optimus' direct connection to the internet took him to YouTube where he quickly found the right clip. In it, a large, sandy haired, overexcited man was standing next to another man who was drinking from a bottle covered in a paper sack. Both men were in the middle of a field, with Earth bovines surrounding them. The larger man went on to explain that, "You put your shoulder into it and you push" the cows. When asked what happens, the man, whom Optimus deduced was the movie's main character, said, "They fall over!" Sensing the direction the clip was going, Prime let it play out to see the prank epically fail and the large man land face first into what Optimus sincerely hoped was mud. Getting the gist of the exercise, Prime cut his connection, leaned back in his massive chair, and put the palm of his right hand over his forehead. He stretched both legs out and let the other arm dangle over the armrest, looking completely undignified in his exasperation.

:Ratchet, please tell me they didn't.:

:Believe it. They did.: Ratchet's voice came back through the internal comm.

:Skids and Mudflap went _cow tipping_?! Where could they have found cows in Nevada?:

:Frag if I know, but they did. They also found plenty of mud.: Ratchet responded. Prime heard another loud bang, a whimper and pathetic begging to Primus. That was followed by more of Mikaela's swearing, and Ratchet's yelling.

:What was the result?: Prime asked, finally removing his hand from his face and sitting up straight.

:I didn't really even ask. All I know is that Mudflap was kicked by one of the bovines and has a large dent in his helm with a malfunctioning optic to show for it.:

:How much longer will it take?:

:That depends on how it takes us to catch him, Optimus.: Ratchet paused, presumably to throw a wrench in Mudflap's direction. :Those optics of yours better not be rolling at him, Prime. You know you're just as bad when it comes to not wanting to be serviced or repaired.:

Optimus inwardly cringed. He made every possible attempt to stave off necessary repairs and service as long as he could, which usually resulted in a less than pleased CMO and a hefty lecture once Ratchet managed to corner him.

:How long, Ratchet?:

:I'm going to have to recalibrate his left optic, so it might be a while. And he smells. Horribly. I'm not so sure it was mud he fell in.: Ratchet said with disdain. :And if he doesn't sit still, _that_ will be followed by a full exhaust flush, just because I can!:

:Then it's nothing that can't wait. In fact, it might begin to be suitable punishment for him. Lock him and his brother in Medbay and meet me in the tactical hanger immediately. Tie them up if you have to. Together. Or, if you want, you have my permission to give Miss Banes a blowtorch. That's an order. Prime out.:

Prime heard a snort on Ratchet's end of the communication. :And one I'll gladly obey. Ratchet out.:

Optimus rose from his desk and began to walk toward the main hanger where he assumed Lennox and Ironhide were already waiting. The NEST C-130 had already been unloaded and its cargo, both human and inanimate, was being led to the staging area while they waited for the Autobot Big Boss. Transforming into his alternate mode as he reached his office door, Prime drove across the base from the Autobot hanger to the smaller shared operations hanger. He pulled in just as Ratchet arrived in his vehicle mode. Both medic and leader clicked their lights in greeting to Ironhide, Bumblebee and Lennox, already present, as the Captain corralled the small group of civilians into the cavernous room.

Optimus surveyed them as they sat. He knew Maggie and Glen from their work with Sector 7 and Mission City, so he just ran a quick scan on them to be sure the young computer specialists were in good health. They nodded in his direction and then took off with a couple of the NEST bean counters to set up shop. Prime and Ratchet both drove up as surreptitiously as they could to park next to Ironhide. As he observed the unfamiliar group, Optimus nearly laughed out loud at the clear discomfort of one of the younger males.

Timothy McGee was never so grateful to be back on solid ground. If he really wanted to bid a fond farewell to the rest of his dignity, he may have even kissed it. Gibbs' phone call at around 2000 the previous night had caught him off guard, away from home for the evening. Planning on going straight to work the next morning after his latest publisher's meeting, McGee had instead rushed back to his apartment to pack for the early flight. Because of that, he had subsequently forgotten to take his Dramamine. Considering it was a cross-country flight in the back of a C-130, that made for a very long, very cold, and very agonizing ride for the NCIS agent.

To make matters worse, Gibbs had not given a reason for their sudden need to fly across the country, nor did he explain the presence of the two civilians with whom they were riding. He only said that it was classified, had to do with PO Mitchell, and that they would be briefed upon landing at a place called Diego Garcia. McGee, Tony and Ziva, all infinitely curious, had tried to research the location the night previous, only to come up against top-secret levels of classification to which even they didn't have access. To deepen the mystery, even McGee's highly superior "visiting" skills came up batting a big, fat zero against various levels of computer encryption.

Finally deplaned and with their gear, the team was greeted by a thirtyish black man dressed in an Air Force set of BDUs with Technical Sergeant insignias on his bicep sleeves. Introducing himself as Bobby Epps, the man brought the NCIS team into a hanger where several chairs, an Army Captain and four vehicles waited: a brand new yellow and black Chevy Camaro, a large, black GMC Topkick truck, a hulking flame patterned Peterbuilt, and an oversized yellow-green H2 search and rescue Hummer. The Camaro had DiNozzo drooling, still not having decided on a replacement car after his was stolen and totaled two years earlier.

"Lady and gentlemen," Lennox said, giving Ziva a quick glance, "my name is Captain Will Lennox, and I'm the military officer in charge here. You're already met my Tech Sergeant, Epps. Welcome to Diego Garcia."

Gibbs looked across the bay, suspiciously eyeing the large flame patterned Peterbuilt truck that had idled its way in to the hanger. He thought he knew that vehicle, and if he was right, DiNozzo, David and McGee were in for one hell of a surprise. "Captain Lennox, I'm NCIS Special Agent Gibbs. This is my team, DiNozzo, David and McGee."

All agents and present NEST members shook hands. Lennox then motioned for the group to sit. McGee let out a soft whine of appreciation for solid ground.

"It would not have been that bad if you'd remembered the Dramamine, McGee. Stop whining and suck it up!" Ziva said in a hissed tone, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"Ziva, I can't help I get airsick!" McGee hissed back through equally clenched teeth.

Epps looked back and forth. "Ahem," he said, clearing his throat.

Gibbs turned around in his chair and gave his agents a pointed glare. "Don't make me slap you two." Both Ziva and McGee repositioned themselves to avoid their boss' wrath.

"Most of my team is still out on exercises, but you'll meet them in due time. Right now, I want to debrief you so we can get to work as soon as possible," Lennox said. "Did you bring that shard with you?"

McGee leaned forward and pulled the heavy metal object out of his sea bag. "Right here. We've been trying to figure out what it is. Our forensic tech has run every single test she can think of on it, and we've had no luck. Hopefully you can tell us."

Lennox looked at Epps, and then spoke. "What we're about to tell you is extremely classified. None of what you see, hear or do at Diego Garcia is to leave this complex. Is that clear?"

All four NCIS agents nodded.

"And you might want to believe in the unbelievable, if you know what I mean," Epps added as he casually plopped his feet up on a spare chair.

"Okay, so what are we talking about here? Ghosts? Aliens?" DiNozzo asked sarcastically. "Because that would be really cool, right boss?" Gibbs' hand came up and whacked the back of DiNozzo's head. "Right. Shutting up and listening now."

"As sarcastic as I find your comment, Agent DiNozzo, you're not far off from the truth. However, I think my friends would do a better job of telling you what you have there," Lennox said with a gesture toward the evidence baggie McGee was holding.

Ziva looked around, confused. "What friends?"

Epps and Lennox traded amused glances. Looking behind them, they motioned to the three vehicles parked behind them, "These friends."

Still waiting for other people to enter, Ziva said, "I beg your pardon, but I do not see anyone else here."

The moment the sentence left Ziva's mouth, the vehicles parked behind Lennox and Epps began to spin, click and whir, and in a few short seconds, standing before the NCIS agents were four towering alien robots. DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva were extremely thankful for their current sitting positions, as they were all unsure their legs would have supported them at the moment. So full of shock and surprise, words could find their way past their throats. To the team's complete incredulity, and to the alarm of Lennox and Epps, Gibbs stood up causally and approached the tallest robot. The large former semi dropped gracefully to one knee and said in the same deep baritone voice the Gunny remembered,

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I never thought I'd lay optics on you again."

DiNozzo hit the floor, out cold.

**Next Up**: An information exchange between the Autobots, NEST and NCIS leads to confusion all around, and Ratchet pisses Gibbs off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: Dude, real life sucks sometimes. I do sincerely apologize for the amount of time between updates. My fiancé's cousin got married last week, and both he and I were in the wedding. I haven't been able to sit down for about the last two weeks for more than a half hour to do _anything_ I need to get done, let alone work on my story.

This chapter just seemed to drag to me, but I had to do the information exchange for continuity's sake in the story. The chapter everyone's been wanting is up next, and I promise it'll be worth the wait. Between chapters six and seven, it's about 20 pages right now in MS Word, and I think that's simply too much for one shot.

**Disclaimer**: See the first five parts for the reasons these franchises aren't mine.

**Chapter 6**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

For the first time in her life, Ziva David actually felt true fear. She had faced down terrorists with nary a second thought. She'd even taken the life of her own half-brother without question for betraying her country and her agency. She'd been on countless undercover assignments. She'd been beaten, shot and stabbed. However, nothing she had ever seen could have prepared her for the sight standing high above her. Even with all her training, she was unable to keep the look of surprised fear off her features, her eyes giving away her discomfort. A few Hebrew curses made their way from her mouth.

Giant alien robots. Good goddamn, what had she gotten herself into?

Giving herself a tough mental shake and slap, Ziva leaned down to pick her partner up off the cement where he had landed in an ungraceful heap of legs and arms. She slapped him hard on the cheek to bring him around. As she did so, Ziva looked over to McGee and noticed he was having trouble keeping his jaw connected to the upper portion of his skull. And in the middle of it all was Gibbs, looking completely unaffected at having just encountered a quartet of strange beings very obviously from another world.

In fact, her boss somehow knew their names. Ziva emotions had gone from afraid to officially confused, language barrier notwithstanding.

"Optimus Prime. Never thought I'd see you again," Gibbs said as he stepped forward to address the Autobot leader.

A low chuckle came from the Autobot leader. "I'm glad to have made such an impression. You remember my officers, Ratchet and Ironhide?"

"Not like you guys are easy to forget," he responded. Gesturing with his head, Gibbs said, "My team. Ziva David, Tony DiNozzo and Tim McGee."

As Gibbs introduced the people with him, Ratchet looked at the group with confusion coloring his face plates. "I was under the impression from Captain Lennox that women weren't allowed in combat groups in the U.S. military."

"Hmm. Don't tell that to Chromia if she ever shows up," Ironhide said. "She'd shoot you all just for the fun of it."

"They're still not. NCIS agents are civilians," Gibbs said. Ratchet nodded his understanding.

"To clarify my research, NCIS is what, exactly?" Ratchet asked.

"Navy cops. Counterterrorism, protection and investigation," Gibbs answered as four sets of blue optics studied the new humans on base.

The Autobots nodded to the NCIS group as they surveyed each individual's reaction. Tony gave a small, weak wave. McGee sat in his seat, still unable to keep his jaw from flapping. Ziva was doing the best of the three agents in projecting an appearance of aloofness, but Optimus repeatedly caught her staring when she thought he and his group weren't looking.

Prime's expression softened as he retracted his battle mask. Making eye contact with the three unfamiliar NCIS agents, he said, "Agents, my name is Optimus Prime, and these are my officers. My medic, Ratchet, weapons specialist Ironhide, and Bumblebee, our scout." Turning to Gibbs Prime gestured toward Bumblebee and said, "He wasn't with us on our last visit to Earth."

Gibbs nodded his head in greeting to the young mech. Bumblebee gave him a little salute in kind. Cocking his head slightly to the side, Gibbs' eyes slid back to the Autobot leader. "I admit to being surprised to see you again, but I didn't think you were this shiny."

Prime had the good grace to look chagrined and commed Ironhide internally as he saw the slight sliver of a smile making its way across his weapons specialist's faceplates.

:Not a word, 'Hide, or so help me I will put on waste tank disposal for the rest of this planet's eternity.:

:Did I say anything, Prime?:

Optimus subtly chewed in the inside of his cheek as he contemplated re-engaging his battle mask to hide his scowl. Ironhide wisely backed off. Though Optimus Prime was Webster's definition of diplomatic, his complete annihilation of Bonecrusher on the way to Mission City reminded other bots he was still Prime, and therefore could kick ass and take names with the best of them.

Switching back to spoken English, Prime said to Gibbs, "Well, yes. This is a new form. Upon return to Earth, I found the form I took during my previous stay on your planet was a bit, how do you say it? Outdated."

Gibbs snorted a laugh. "I'll bet."

Lennox shifted from foot to foot, stamping down his surprise and confusion as he listened to Gibbs and Prime's conversation. Those two knew each other? And _back_ on Earth? That would imply the Autobots had been to the planet previously, which would make everything Lennox thought he knew obsolete information. He and Epps exchanged similarly puzzled glances. Shaking his head, the Captain mused that if he thought any harder, his brain might explode from the pressure. However, explanations would have to wait a little while longer. "You know, I hate to be the guy that breaks up the welcome party, but I need to start the debriefing."

Optimus nodded, once again becoming Prime the Autobot Leader. "Of course, Captain Lennox. My apologies."

Epps looked over to where DiNozzo was still struggling to plant himself back into his chair. Leaning over to the NCIS agent's hearing range, Epps said, "Hey, don't worry man. The first time I saw one of these guys, we were running for our lives. At least you met the ones that won't try to kill you! Well, at least, not on purpose."

DiNozzo babbled, his eyes wide as saucers. He pointed up at Ironhide while the big black mech was very nearly petting his cannons. "Big. Robot. Huh?!"

Lennox ducked his head to avoid revealing his smile to the group. "Just have a seat, folks and we'll explain everything. You found a piece of the thing that creates the guys in front of you, so I think we've got some explaining to do."

Between Lennox, Epps, Ratchet, Ironhide and Prime, the NCIS team was debriefed on the happenings of Mission City, Megatron, Sam and Mikaela and the formation of NEST. McGee spent most of his time reminding himself to concentrate on the task at hand rather than stare at the four Autobots before him, wondering how they "worked". Once she got over her initial shock, Ziva wanted to question the one named "Ironhide" as he was introduced as the weapons specialist. He also appeared to be the bodyguard of the leader robot, Optimus Prime. DiNozzo repeatedly pinched his arm to keep reminding himself that he wasn't dreaming. How well it was working was still up for debate.

Two mind boggling hours later, Lennox finally called a halt to the proceedings, as he saw he never really had the NCIS group's attention in the first place. The Captain figured a mental break was needed so the group from Washington could settle into their racks and digest the new information they had learned.

"Let's meet back here after lunch. You guys should get settled here first and learn the layout of the base," Lennox said. "Epps and I can show you around."

Grabbing their sea bags, the NCIS group gaped once again as Ironhide folded himself back down into his alt mode.

"Holy shit, that's cool!" McGee said.

"Hey! You guys can gawk later!" Gibbs yelled. "We have work to do."

Lennox and Epps hopped into Ironhide's cab after bidding farewell to Ratchet, Bumblebee and Prime. Lennox swore he heard Optimus mumbling about 'fragging wayward twins' as the Peterbilt went through his transformation sequence, and the Cybertronian he had gleamed from Ratchet was nothing he'd want Annabelle hearing even though she couldn't repeat it.

Waving a hand, Epps yelled, "You fools want a ride or do you want to walk across the base?"

Gibbs gave his team a pointed look as he hauled himself and his gear into the flatbed of the truck. Looking at his team, he asked, "Well?"

McGee, Ziva and DiNozzo all scrambled to obey, all tossing their gear up in similar fashion. As Ironhide took off for the human quarters of the NEST base, DiNozzo spoke up.

"Does anyone find it disconcerting we're riding in a truck that walks and talks, or is it just me?" Tony said is quietly so only his team would be able to hear it. Unfortunately, he didn't take into account the super sensitive hearing of Ironhide's audios.

Ironhide swerved hard left, the inertia of his movement jamming the back of DiNozzo's head into one of the Topkick's chrome smokestack. A gruff voice came from his speakers. "I can hear you, Agent DiNozzo!"

Tony rubbed his head, getting no sympathy from Gibbs or the NEST liaisons. All stifled laughter. "Yeah, apparently."

"Where are we going?" McGee asked over the roar of Ironhide's engine, giddiness fully evident in his voice.

Epps stuck his head out of the passenger window. "We're going to bring you over to the human hanger, let you settle in, and meet some of the other "squishies" that work here."

Ziva raised an eyebrow as Ironhide slowed to a halt in front of a medium sized hanger, the old mech encouraging his cargo to exit with a firm shake of his chassis. Ziva looked around at her surroundings. Out the back, she saw a set of hastily constructed barracks and a more permanent set in the mid stages of completion roughly 100 yards to the west. Grabbing her gear so Ironhide could transform, she looked at Epps and asked, "What is a squishy?"

Lennox laughed and answered for his friend. "A 'squishy' is what the Cybertronians," he said, jerking his thumb backwards in Ironhide's general direction, "call us when they think we're not in hearing range. Dumb robots," Lennox said, mirth in his words and a smile on his face. Ironhide gently nudged the Captain's back with his heavily armored toe, the size and strength difference causing Lennox to lurch forward and nearly face plant on the concrete.

"Ingrate," the Weapons Specialist muttered while trying poorly to sound put out as he wandered off toward the main hanger. Epps and Lennox began leading the NCIS team into the human sized portion of the base.

"You guys should have everything you need here, and you'll find it's actually human sized. Walk into the Autobot or shared quarters, and you'll feel like you're playing the fourth world of Super Mario 3, and you're the little Mario," Lennox said. "I have you assigned to quarters at the end of the hall. It should be a little quieter there."

Gibbs nodded his head as he started to memorize the layout, his team picking their respective rooms and dropping their gear.

A dark haired girl and a boyish looking teen approached him from the recreation area as Gibbs waited to regroup with his team. "You guys must be the people from Washington. I'm Sam, and this is my girlfriend Mikaela."

"Gibbs, David, DiNozzo and McGee," Gibbs said. He gave Sam the once over, narrowing his eyes in recognition. "You're the kid that killed Megawhatsit?"

Sam looked down at his feet, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his blue jeans in obvious embarrassment. "Yeah. I guess. But Prime took him on hand to hand. It was incredible! Well, except for the little fact I think Big Boss was losing."

Mikaela elbowed him. "Sam! Optimus doesn't lose. It was a strategic maneuver, letting Megabutt think he was better." Sam rolled his eyes at Mikaela and wrapped her in a huge bear hug. She gave a squeak of surprise.

"Oh, and a word of advice: don't irritate the black one. He's got huge cannons and he's really trigger-happy. The only one who can piss him off and live is Captain Lennox, mainly because Ironhide is his family's guardian," Sam said, leaning in to the group and putting a hand to the side of his mouth in mock secrecy.

DiNozzo crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. "Great. We've got one of those, too. Ziva, you and him should get along just fine."

Ziva shot her partner a glare, her hands planted on her hips. "At least I did not pass out when I saw them! Remember, I can still kill you sixteen ways with a single paper clip."

The triumphant smirk on DiNozzo's face disappeared as quickly as it had materialized when he realized she had a point. Sam blanched and stepped back, stopping himself just short of putting Mikaela's body between his own and the angry-looking Ziva.

Looking over to McGee, Sam asked in a hushed whisper, "Where'd you guys find her?"

"Mossad."

Ziva looked slyly at the young teenage boy. Sam gulped.

"And if you get hurt and have to go to medbay, just admit you did something stupid and it was your fault, even if it really wasn't. Ratchet throws things, like large wrenches. And he has scary good aim. He curses a lot too, even if it is really amusing," Mikaela said with a chuckle.

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes and lightly shove his girlfriend. "Hey, I don't think the wrench chucking is amusing at all! Ratchet angry is just scary!"

"Don't blame me for letting Skids and Mudflap talk you into something you _knew_ would get you hurt! You just got what you deserved. Ratchet has to keep Prime in line, so the lecture you got is nothing compared to that," Mikaela shot back, her hands coming to rest defiantly against her hips.

"But I'm still cute, right?" Sam asked, making puppy dog eyes at her. Gibbs groaned. Mikaela huffed and spun around on her heel.

"Going back to see the Hatchet! Have fun, Sam!"

"Anyway, welcome to the insanity. Let us know if you need anything, or if you just want to vent. Sometimes these guys can be a bit much, you know," the teen finished. McGee smiled. He liked Sam already.

Seeing Epps round the corner, Gibbs motioned for him. "Where's your communications room? I need to get in touch with my people back in D.C."

"That's just down the hall, Agent Gibbs. Anything else?" Epps asked.

"Yeah. Where'd those two computer geeks go? I have another one I'd like to add to the collection. Oh, and I want to talk to those kids, too. Get them all into a meeting with my team ASAP. I want to formulate some sort of plan to figure out what the hell is going on here."

"Sure. Let's get to it," Epps said.

An hour later, and some truly average mess hall rations later, Gibbs and company found themselves in yet another meeting with the Autobot leadership, NEST commanders, Sam and Mikaela and the two hackers who discovered the original signal. Lennox and Epps weren't kidding about the scale of things at Diego Garcia. Just the furniture in the room sized for Autobots was positively intimidating. Then, when beings for which the furniture was made were added into the mix, concentration was nearly impossible. Gibbs noted it would take his team some time to adjust to they what they were seeing. But they still had a job to and a murder to solve, so giant robots or no, work had to get done.

Maggie and Glen started the debriefing off as McGee whistled the tune from Super Mario Brothers.

"Okay, so here's what we know, or at least what we theorize," she began. "At Mission City, Prime pulled a piece of the Allspark out of Megatron before he was loaded onto the Stennis for transport to the Laurentian Abyss. We thought that was the only piece."

"And, apparently you were wrong," DiNozzo added from across the table. "Because we found another in Petty Officer Mitchell."

"Who, I might add, was missing all his internal organs," Ziva finished. Having not heard any details of what brought NCIS' path to cross with NEST's, the military leadership, both human and alien, shifted nervously.

Gibbs tossed a thick folder, emblazed with the NCIS logo, on the desk in front of the NEST group. "Here's our results and photos from autopsy and forensics on PO Mitchell. Gotta tell you, most of it doesn't make sense."

McGee stood up and walked around to the computer and accompanying projector. "Since we've been here, boss, I took the liberty of scanning all our files so we could all view them," Tim said as he looked at the Autobots.

Gibbs gave a little half smile. Giant robots, in turn, have giant hands, and what was a full size page of information to humans would be but a sliver of paper to them. "That's good thinking, McGee."

Tim beamed and plugged the drive into the projector as it hummed to life. Quickly, he sorted through various files, putting them up for all the room to see. "When our medical examiner brought the shard up to our forensic specialist, she reported energy fluctuations and spikes in all her lab equipment. I was there for most of it, and it was really strange. We obviously know why now we couldn't figure out its origins, but we still can't explain what happened to PO Mitchell or why Abby's lab was going nuts."

"She thought he swallowed it," DiNozzo said. Mikaela narrowed her eyes and whispered something to the yellow H2. Ratchet was his name, if the Navy cops remembered correctly. The two continued their whispering conversation until Gibbs cleared his throat.

"You two wanna share or do we just have to guess?"

Ratchet bristled slightly at the direct question and somewhat rude tone. Ignoring Gibbs, the medic addressed McGee. "I think I may have a theory. What was happening in the lab that had you so puzzled, Agent McGee?"

McGee paused briefly, contemplating how to formulate into words what had happened. "It was like everything was alive with extra energy. When Abby tried to warm up her lunch, the microwave fried her food because of extra output."

Ratchet brought a hand up to rest on his chin. "That makes sense. The energy we give off is unlike anything here on Earth. When the Allspark is in close proximity to any kind of Cybertronian life, it gives off a mechanical signal, a radiation if you will."

"But since there's really not that much Cybertronian stuff on Earth, we haven't really thought of what might happen to regular Earth things. But it does affect things. Like, for instance, in Mission City, the full Cube made vending machines and Xboxes come to life," Mikeala said. Looking at Ratchet she asked, "Do you think shards could do that, but on a smaller level?"

"It's possible, but we'd have to test the theory. I will inform you of my findings," he said as the yellow medic stood to leave.

Gibbs, never pleased with being out of the loop, yelled up to Ratchet's retreating form. "Hey! We brought this to you! Don't we get to any say in this? And that's my evidence!"

Ratchet turned around so swiftly, it forced all those present to lean back in their respective chairs. "Agent Gibbs, I will tell you this once out of courtesy. I do not take orders from you, nor will I ever. I _will_ be left alone to do my testing, as I'm the only one who knows the location of the shard Prime pulled from Megatron. The Decepticons, as you surely remember, are ruthless. They'll run you over and not think twice about it on their quest for those shards. The less you know, the better off you'll be."

With that, the Autobot medic turned and stalked out of the tactical hanger.

"Well, at least he didn't throw anything," Epps said. "Keep going."

Ziva, Tony and McGee all resettled themselves after seeing Ratchet dress Gibbs down in a big way. Gibbs himself looked outwardly calm, but DiNozzo saw the slight twitch in the left side of his boss' face that gave away his irritation. DiNozzo made a mental note to address that problem before the whole base was dealing with a grumpy medic and an even grumpier former Gunnery Sergeant. There were _way_ too many things on the premises that liked to go 'boom' in spectacular fashion, and Tony had no aspirations to be anywhere near those crater creating explosions.

Pulling himself out of his daydream, the investigator in DiNozzo surfaced. "What happened with the Stennis' security?"

Lennox sighed. He never liked admitting the military wasn't perfect, though he did it several occasions since being assigned to his current unit. "We figured there was a problem when we started hearing rumors of nifty "souvenirs" that had made their way stateside from the Stennis' last cruise. We've been trying to dig deeper to see if there's any credibility, but we just don't have the manpower to do it." Lennox ran a frustrated had through his spiky dark hair.

"It ain't easy running a base that's not supposed to exist. We have the money, but we don't have the time to thoroughly check everyone's backgrounds that might be able to work here. No vetting, no entry. It's trust, man, and it's a hard thing to find," Epps said.

Gibbs shifted in his seat and turned to address the military and Cybertronian hosts. "How about I save you the trouble. I assume I'll have full cooperation."

"Of course. We would like answers as much as you have a case to solve," Prime said. Still not used to his booming, regal voice, McGee, Tony and Ziva all involuntarily shuddered in their seats. "Captain Lennox, do you concur?"

"Yeah, I've got not problem with that. The more brains, the better, right?" Though Lennox wasn't particularly fond of being ordered around on his own turf, tucking away his pride was a small price to pay to avoid the complete obliteration of Earth and the continued preservation of the Autobots as a species. What the NCIS team had discovered, along with what NEST already knew, had serious ramifications for both groups. The Captain also figured that Gibbs wasn't exactly a man that took no for an answer, even from a direct superior. In fact, Lennox questioned whether the word even existed in the former Gunnery Sergeant's vocabulary. "Anything you find, though, my team needs to know about."

"Fine. I'll lend you guys McGee, and he can work with Glen and Maggie starting to backtrace all communications about the shards being on that ship," Gibbs said, his brain working on how to best divide and conquer the tasks at hand.

"On it, boss," McGee, Glen and Maggie nodded and moved to collect their paperwork.

"Ziva, DiNozzo, I want you two to work with Lennox and Epps to figure out how the hell PO Mitchell got the shard, and how he managed to get it off the ship. We figure that out, we probably know why it was inside him.

"Our forensic expert is also working on Mitchell's laptop, but she hasn't been having much luck with that either," McGee said.

"Have her send it out. Between the three of us we'll get in," Maggie said.

"You're going to have to. It's the only lead we really have right now," Gibbs said. "We tossed Mitchell's place top to bottom, and there was nothing there to suggest what he was up to. Everything's got to be on that damn laptop."

Ever the diplomat, Prime looked down at Gibbs. "When Ratchet is finished with his experiments on the shard we have and the one you brought, I will have him report his findings."

"And my evidence?"

"Though I apologize for his candor, I must agree with Ratchet regarding his decision. I don't think you fully understand how dangerous a situation you've put yourselves in. If we know these shards exist, then the Decepticons do as well. They _will_ kill you, Gibbs, to get to them. For now, the shard you found remains with us. After we know why it was in your Petty Officer's possession, I may consider returning to you."

Gibbs scowled but acknowledged when to concede defeat. What he was dealing with was way out of his league, and the agent in him knew to recognize the situation for what it was. "I think that's a load of bullshit, Prime, but I'll go with it for now. Just have Ratchet talk to me when he's done."

McGee came jogging up to Gibbs as he breezed through the human hanger. "Boss, I just got off the phone with Abby, and she's agreed to get the laptop to Keller so he can get it out to us. We should have it six hours."

Gibbs eyed McGee critically. The young agent looked frazzled. "And?"

"…And she was not happy about what I couldn't tell her. She wanted to know where we were, what we were doing and why this had to do with PO Mitchell."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well, nothing. I told her we had discovered a chunk of new experimental metal the DoD was working on, and that we're working with a covert team to figure out how it landed in Mitchell's hands."

"So basically, you lied."

"Pretty much. And I feel terrible for doing it."

"I know, McGee, but you heard what they said."

McGee nodded, the whimsical look making its way back across his features as he marveled at his current situation. "But, Boss, Abby would love this place, and she'd love Glen and Maggie. It would be heaven for her."

Gibbs took a breath.

McGee sighed, cutting Gibbs off before he could say anything in retort. "I know, security, but could you try? I know it would mean a lot to the rest of us, even if it doesn't work."

"I'll see what I can do, McGee, but no promises. And don't you _dare_ say anything to Abby!" Gibbs said as he chomped on his lip. He knew he was going to eventually regret it.

McGee's face lit up in a smile. "Thanks, Boss!"

Gibbs glared.

"Going back to work now."

**Next Up**: Tony, McGee and Ziva (finally) get to play 20 questions with the Autobots, and Gibbs and Prime catch up since their last encounter. Be warned: the next chapter may take me a while to get out. It's probably going to be massive.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: I hope you all find that this chapter was worth the wait. And it wasn't as long of a wait as I had originally planned. Thank the recent turn of crappy weather we've had here in Minnesota for all the quality writing time I've gotten in the past few days. If you'd like the second part of this to be up faster (yes, NCIS meeting the Autobots has turned into a two part deal), a review or two would be lovely. There are a lot of POV shifts, but I think they flow nicely. Just think of it as a camera following people around.

Skids and Mudflap were not supposed to have so much screen time, but somehow they elbowed and shoved their way into this fic. They have been just a blast to write, so I'm just going to roll with it for now. Plus, it's amusement for Tony.

**Disclaimer**: I have a mortgage and therefore I cannot, by virtue, own either of these franchises. Bruckheimer and Bellasario have money. I do not. Don't sue.

**Chapter 7**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

Ziva was never one to sleep in. It was just a waste of time, she thought, and that was something she didn't like to do. Throw in the three-hour time difference, and the Mossad officer found herself awake before the sun was even halfway above the horizon. She went for a six-mile run around the base, then showered and dressed. Ready to go by 0630, Ziva hoped her early start would give her time to explore her new surroundings and more importantly, her new company.

As she wandered around the perimeter of the base, she spied the large black Topkick walking, in his bipedal form, perimeter patrol. What was his name again? Yes, Ironhide.

Ironhide's scanners indicated the presence of human in his vicinity. Looking down, he saw the dark haired femme from NCIS making her way towards him.

"Ziva David. You're up early," he observed.

Ziva came to a halt a good ten feet away from the weapons specialist, unsure how close she could get without endangering her safety. "Yes. I do not require much sleep. You are--," she paused. "Ironhide, correct?"

Ironhide nodded and gazed back toward the rising sun. Though he had only seen her briefly the day previous, there was something about her demeanor and the way in which she carried herself that intrigued him. She was not just a regular squishy, and he begrudgingly admitted he hoped she would seek him out so he could get to know her. "I have sensors. You can come closer if you want."

Ziva hesitated. "I do not wish to distract you."

"You won't," he said curtly. Cocking his head to the side, he said, "Do I scare you?"

She hesitated. "You do not frighten me, but I have never seen anything like you before. I suppose it's just my training. Where I come from, we are taught to be wary if we wish to stay alive."

Ironhide thought again, and then folded himself down into his Topkick form. "How's that, Ziva David?"

"It's just Ziva, Ironhide." The Mossad officer smiled and stepped closer. Ironhide popped the driver's side door open for her and she hopped in. Settling into her seat, Ironhide continued his patrol.

"You have questions," he asked succinctly through the speakers. Ziva marveled that she was, in fact, riding in a sentient alien robot that disguised himself as a truck. Like Ironhide, Ziva felt a draw, a camaraderie of sorts, toward the scarred black mech. It was almost as if they shared the warrior spirit.

"Am I to understand you are the weapons specialist?"

"Yes."

"What exactly does that involve?"

Ironhide chuckled through his speakers. "What it says. I blow things up. It's a pretty simple job."

"And you are your leader's bodyguard, yes?" she queried, probing the waters of decorum and of his patience.

Ironhide's chassis bumped with surprise. Not many people on Earth knew that little fact and fewer still accurately picked up on it. This little squishy was good. Though not official in the sense of title, Ironhide was indeed his Prime's bodyguard. The weapons specialist had sworn to himself to protect Optimus with every last bit of his spark. There was no one more important to the Autobots than Prime, and Ironhide knew should he fall, the rest of the army may fall to pieces with him.

"I am."

Ziva laughed to herself. Ironhide gave answers like Gibbs: one or two words at a time. "You do not say much, do you?" Ziva observed, matter of factly.

"Not more than I have to," Ironhide answered.

The two drove in companionable silence for a couple of laps around the base, Ziva enjoying the quiet respite from the normal hustle and bustle of Washington, and Ironhide content to be with a femme squishy he didn't have to actively stop himself from shooting.

Ironhide was the one to break the silence. "Your accent and syntax is different from that of your comrades, and you spoke a different language when you saw us yesterday. Where are you from on this planet?"

"You are correct. It was Hebrew, and I am from Israel. It is a--," Ironhide cut her off.

"It's a country in the Middle East. I have a direct connection to the internet," he informed her.

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "So, you can look up anything you wish, wherever you are?"

"Yes."

"That would be very nice," she remarked.

Ironhide snorted again. "It is and it isn't. There's no substitute to learning it first hand."

It was Ziva's turn to laugh. "I do not doubt that. Would you like me to continue?"

"Yes."

"I am an officer with Mossad. We are mainly a counterterrorism agency, though we do other things as well. We are highly trained in infiltration, interrogation and hand to hand combat."

"Essentially, you're a warrior."

"That is a good way of putting it, though it has been much different for me here. When I first arrived in the United States, it was a culture shock. I could not do the things I would have done back home. There are politicians to appease and countless watchhorse groups who would not approve of my tactics.

"Isn't it 'watchdog' and not 'watchhorse'?" Ironhide asked, trying, with limited success, to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Horse, dog, what difference does it make? They are both four-legged animals. America is a very strange country," she half yelled in exasperation.

"Don't I know that." Ironhide took a couple of seconds to research Israel, the Middle East and Mossad. Frowning, he said, "Your part of the world is not a peaceful one."

Ziva looked down at her hands. "No. It is most certainly not. We have not stopped fighting over our country and our land since well before Israel became a state. I imagine it is much like your war."

"Your struggles are like my own, but for different reasons." Ironhide was silent again as they continued to patrol, researching her people and history. The more he talked with her, the more Ironhide decided he liked Ziva. She was so unlike every other being he had met on Earth, and it was a welcome change.

"I find it interesting, all this. It sounds to me as if our wars are not so different even though we, as beings, could not be further apart," Ziva observed.

Ironhide gave a hard scoff. "After all the fighting we've done, I think most wars start because of a lust for power and control."

"Agreed. I often wonder if there will ever be peace in my part of the world, just as you must wonder if there will ever be peace among your species." Wanting to switch the subject from herself, she asked, "Ironhide, how long has your war been going on?'

"Over nine million years," he grumbled. "Ratchet, Prime and myself have been present for all of it."

Ziva's jaw nearly fell onto the Topkick's steering wheel. _Nine million years?_

"How long do you live?" she squeaked.

"Longer that that, obviously."

Ziva stopped to think. She was sitting in a mechanical being created long before her species had even evolved past the single celled organism stage, since before the solar system of Earth had been created. Ziva could only marvel at the things he had likely seen and the places he had been. It explained a lot: both his wisdom, and his scars.

"I cannot imagine what you think of our brief life cycles in comparison. Our lifetimes must seem like a blink of an eye to you," she said, her words slightly more accented with her surprise.

"I admit it took some…adjustments. That, and humans are squishy," the Topkick amended.

Ziva laughed. "Yes, we are squishy, indeed. I am curious, Ironhide. If you are over nine million years old, how old would you be relative to a human lifetime?"

There was silence for a beat as the weapons specialist pondered her query. "I suppose I would be about 45 of your Earth years."

Ziva blew out a big breath. He wasn't even halfway to the finish line of his life cycle! "I cannot fathom having as much experience as you in only 45 years. You would be younger than Gibbs."

Another chuckle came from the speakers. "As you've said Ziva, it's relative."

"And the rest of you? How old are they?"

Once again Ironhide thought. "Ratchet would be a few years older than me though not by much, Bumblebee would be about Sam's age, and Optimus would equate to somewhere around your approximate age."

Ratchet and Bumblebee were about the ages she would have imagined them to be, had they actually been human. But to say she was surprised at that revelation regarding the Big Boss would be an understatement. Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and calming voice of reason was only, by Cybertronian standards, 32 years old? "Wow. I did not expect that."

"When at war, the young ones grow up quickly," he said.

"Too quickly," Ziva replied quietly. Another pause hung in the air for a few minutes, but neither being seemed to mind too much.

Sensing the conversation was rapidly deteriorating to uncomfortable levels, Ironhide was pleased when he saw his human relief walking toward him. He checked his internal chronometer and confirmed it was indeed 0700, and time for a shift change. Coming to a halt, he opened his door to signal Ziva to exit. Once she was clear, he transformed into his truck mode and spoke with the officer in charge of the patrol group. Satisfied with his information, Ironhide folded himself back down again and invited the Mossad officer back in to the comfort of his air conditioned cab.

Settling herself in the driver's seat, Ziva instinctively grabbed the steering wheel and tried to put the truck into gear. When the gearshift wouldn't budge, she stopped instantly, throwing her hands to the ceiling. "I apologize. I forgot you are not," she paused, unsure how to continue.

"A real truck," he finished for her, laughter coming from his speakers. "Don't be concerned. Captain Lennox does it all the time."

"Ah. I heard you are his guardian, though if he's here on base all the time, what do you do to keep busy?"

"I shoot things."

Ziva crossed her arms over her chest as Ironhide began moving again, this time in no particular direction. "What things?"

"Decoy drones."

"Oh." She looked around. "Where?"

"We have a target range just beyond that ridge to the south." Ironhide gauged her startled reaction. "What? Did you think we'd be here _without_ a place to test weapons?"

Ziva smiled like a Cheshire cat. "You. Have a _target range_? Why was this not the first thing out of your mouth?"

Ironhide scoffed. "You were the one asking all the questions, femme."

Ziva paused for dramatic effect. "What does the rest of your day look like, Ironhide?"

"I was going to head over to the range as soon as I was off patrol," he answered.

"Care for a little company? I've always liked loud noises in the morning."

For the first time since landing on Earth, Ironhide gave a genuine smile, the simple act lighting up his currently invisible faceplates and optics. Ziva heard the smug smile in his voice. "Just make sure you stand back."

A large shadow fell across Ironhide and his alt form. Ziva peeked out the window to see the sparkling flame patterned Peterbilt blocking the sun, his blue optics glowing brightly.

"Ironhide," the semi stated without preamble.

Ziva opened the door without preamble and hopped out of the vehicle again. Ironhide transformed before he answered his boss. "Yeah, Prime?"

"You know the rules. No target practice before 0800. The humans don't like that, and don't think you liked being saran wrapped, either," Optimus scolded.

Ironhide cursed loudly. No, he'd be happy if he never saw the slagging stuff again in life cycle. One early morning excursion to the target range, and the entirety of the NEST base was ready to offline his cannons and turn them into highly efficient vacuum cleaners. His payback for the explosions that woke the entire human population on site came a few weeks later. While recharging at the Lennox ranch during a viciously rainy night, Ironhide realized he had a slight problem. The barn wasn't big enough for him to take residence in his robot mode, and he loathed sitting out all night in a torrential downpour. Deciding there was no danger to the Lennox family other than the occasional deer, Ironhide transformed into his alt mode, offlined his nonessential systems, and dropped into recharge.

Ironhide woke the next morning hot, sticky, and very sure he couldn't move. Running a quick scan, he found he was coated in layers of thin, stretchy polyurethane plastic that stuck to itself. It was _everywhere_, wrapped in huge circles around him from top to bottom, even coating his wheels. He felt like a very large, very angry cocoon of plastic, especially with all the water and tree debris still in his bed from the storm the night previous. As much as he would have liked to shoot his way out, Ironhide knew he'd just do more damage to himself than good. Thinking his transformation sequence would break the infernal substance, Ironhide tried to switch out of his alt mode. No luck. The stuff was too thick in that much volume. In fact, the weapons specialist counted 337 different layers of plastic coating his body.

Scanning the foreign matter once again, the weapons specialist discovered it was industrial strength and size plastic wrap, most likely from food service. It came in rolls four feet wide and hundreds of feet long, and after consulting YouTube, Ironhide discovered he'd been pranked. Saran wrapping cars was a prank of passage for young people, and apparently his wake up call to the base was met with equal retaliation. Finally waving the figurative white towel, Ironhide had commed Prime to come help him, cursing the rest of the day about 'fragging moody soldiers'.

There was currently, among the contingent of human soldiers on the NEST base, a bet with an extremely large pool regarding who managed to saran wrap the Autobot Gun Guru. Though it would be nice to claim supreme victory over Ironhide, the soldiers of Diego Garcia wisely valued their lives more than their male pride. No one had any kind of wish to meet the business ends of his cannons, so no one had yet come forward to admit responsibility. Conversely, there was an even bigger pool amongst the Autobots regarding Ratchet's involvement in the aforementioned little prank. Ironhide still wondered how the culprits managed to get around all his sensor arrays.

Snapping out of his daydream, Ironhide shook his head to clear his processor. No, for the love of Primus he didn't want that again. "Don't worry Prime. I'll wait. I need to show Ziva the rules of the range anyway."

For his part, Optimus raised an optic ridge but chose not to comment. As the Autobot leader watched Ironhide walk off with Ziva on his shoulder, Prime just shook his head. If the little human femme liked blowing things up as much as Ironhide did, the base was in for a world of hurt. Prime made a mental note to inform Ratchet of any strange incoming injuries and to hide the non-essential wrenches. Though nervous from a standpoint of safety, Optimus was glad Ironhide seemed to have found someone to which he could relate. Smiling subtly, Prime began his rounds of the base to start his day.

Optimus walked smoothly into the recently constructed NEST technology center, housed in the shared tactical hanger. The old base given to the Autobots as a 'thank you' from the U.S. Government for saving the world needed more than just a little paint, and Prime was the one mainly inconvenienced from it. Much like a big man in a submarine, Optimus quickly discovered most places on Earth just weren't constructed for occupancy by alien robots, especially one who was as tall as an Olympic diving platform was high. The other Autobots had less troubles as they were shorter, but Prime constantly found himself cracking the top of his helm and antennae on just about everything as he tried to maneuver the pitifully tight quarters.

New construction to raise the ceiling height of each of the four buildings comprising the NEST base was coming along, but certainly not as quickly as Optimus' dignity or Ratchet's temper would have liked. Optimus cringed as he recalled a vehement lecture he had received from the medic the week previous when the Autobot leader had stood up too quickly indoors and put a dent the size of a Smart car in the back of his helmet armor. The ceiling and the supports Prime had nailed had not fared much better. The Autobots had listed projects in order of priority, and the tactical center was the first up for a refit. Since its completion, Prime noted it was nice not to have to duck when he entered the threshold of every single room.

Hearing the familiar sounds of Prime's steady footfalls, Maggie and Glen both nodded in passive greeting while McGee couldn't stop his open faced gape. Dropping down to one knee, Prime's optics darted back and forth at the various computer screens the three were studying. The laptop belonging to the late Petty Officer Mitchell had arrived at NEST during the middle of the previous night, and all three computer geeks had started first thing in the morning at cracking the code.

"Maggie, Glen, Agent McGee, how are things coming this morning?" Prime asked from his position behind the trio of chairs.

"Not too badly so far, Optimus. We've managed to figure out how Mitchell partitioned his hard drive and which of those partitions were the most important. It seems that the encryption level goes up with each level of importance," Maggie stated as she glanced over her shoulder.

"Getting in has been a bitch, though," Glen said as he readjusted his thick glasses.

McGee's mouth was still opening and closing as he watched Maggie and Glen talk to Prime. Optimus turned his head to face McGee as Maggie elbowed the NCIS agent to continue where she had left off.

"Ah, I, we've managed to get into two of the four partitioned drives. So far, it's nothing important. Just dates, duty roster applicable to Mitchell and some notes and reminders to pay bills and stuff," McGee absently answered while he studied Prime as closely as propriety would allow.

"Good. Please inform me when you accessed the system," Prime finished, his joints hissing as he stood. McGee's head followed the Autobot leader's movements all the way out the door, his face alight with a star struck smile of reverence.

"Do you ever get used to that?" McGee asked.

"What, Optimus?" Maggie responded.

"No, the Autobots in general. They're just-- They're just so cool!"

"Honestly, McGee, once you get to know them and see their personalities, they become more like people. Yeah, they're still really tall, made of metal and can crush you with a toe, but they're individuals," Maggie said. "But to answer your question, yes, you will get used to them. Just not in the way you think."

"Hmm."

Optimus chuckled lightly from down the hall, his sensitive audios picking up the tail end of the conversation. The Autobot leader found himself harboring a growing fondness for the NCIS team, McGee in particular. There was so much earnest curiosity in the young agent, none of which held any malicious intentions whatsoever that Prime couldn't help but be reminded of himself before the war. After centuries of death and destruction, it was a welcome distraction. The Autobot leader knew cranky, cynical Ratchet shared his sentiments as well. Walking outside, Optimus stopped in the no parking zone directly in front of the hanger doors and folded himself down into his alt mode.

It was still early enough that most of the base was still sleeping or just grabbing some chow before going on duty. Those who were in uniform were coming off shift and ready for some much deserved down time. It was this time of the morning Optimus liked to go for a drive to clear his processor before another long and mentally grueling day. Heading out along the taxiway, Prime beeped his air horn in acknowledgement as he passed Captain Lennox.

"Agent Gibbs! How are you this morning?" Will Lennox asked, waving to the departing Peterbilt as he walked back across the tarmac from his morning jog.

"Be better if I could find some decent coffee. You got any of that around here?" Gibbs asked as he dumped out the sludge from the communal coffee maker in the mess hall on to the ground.

Lennox smiled. "Yeah, that stuff will rot you from the inside out. Follow me. I've got a secret stash of the good stuff in my office. I'll get you a cup, but I want to hit the mess first. I'm famished."

"Fair enough," Gibbs said. The two leaders went through the chow line silently. Gibbs grabbed a bagel and cream cheese with his coffee, while Lennox snagged himself something that looked suspiciously like a breakfast burrito if the consumer really squinted. Walking out of the human hanger, Lennox showed Gibbs to his office, located next to Prime's in the shared building. Will opened his bag of coffee, causing Gibbs to practically drool at the smell. The two human bosses settled into the plush chairs in Lennox's office and enjoyed a quiet morning meal.

"You know I have to ask, Agent Gibbs," Lennox started as the coffee began to percolate. "How the hell do you know Optimus Prime?"

Gibbs smiled lightly. "That's a long story, Captain." Though highly classified material, the former Gunny figured if Lennox was in charge of this lot, he had clearance to know the Autobots had been here before. Besides, what could it hurt?

Lennox handed him a giant cup of coffee and Gibbs took a welcome gulp. "It's Will in closed quarters, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, it started during Desert Storm when I was still a Gunny…" Gibbs began, recounting his tale of his first meeting with the Autobots. Lennox nearly spit out his coffee at several points in Gibbs' tale and shuddered at the appropriate times as well. It appeared that Scorponok had not changed his attack strategy in the past seventeen years, and Gibbs' desire to kill the creature had not waned in any shape or form either.

"Is there anything different about them? The Autobots, I mean," Lennox asked.

"Not really. Just their outward appearances," Gibbs responded. "Prime is still calm, Ironhide is still trigger happy, and Ratchet is still grumpy."

Will let out a laugh and then composing himself, cocked his head slightly to the side. "You knew, didn't you? When you came here. Did Keller tell you?"

"If any other team had found that shard, you probably wouldn't know about it, and I would still be in D.C. I pressed Keller for information I knew he had and he confirmed the Autobots were back on Earth. When he sent me and my team here, I was the only one he briefed. But he didn't tell me who I was going to meet," Gibbs finished.

Will's mind drifted, painting a mental picture of Gibbs "pressing" SECDEF Keller for information. "I'll bet Keller loved that."

Gibbs shook his head. "John and I go way back. He's well aware the second 'B' in my name stands for 'Bastard'. But to answer your question, I knew for sure when I saw that semi. Even with different paint, I could tell. Don't know how, but I could."

"So, let me get this straight: you saw the glyphs on the shard of the cube you found, and recognized them from where?" Lennox asked.

"Prime might look different than I remember, but he still had the same writing on the sides of his face back when I first met him. Just had to confirm it first."

"And you had an idea that Keller knew what was going on?" Lennox continued.

Gibbs scoffed. "Nah. It's just coincidence that Keller's nephew was with us on patrol," Gibbs said, draining his coffee and refilling his mug. "But, John got a bug up his ass and decided we'd do well here. Not complaining, but it's different."

Will nodded in agreement. "I have to admit, Gibbs, seeing your man DiNozzo pass out was one of the highlights of my week," Lennox said as he reached into his desk drawer. Pulling out a DVD, he handed it to Gibbs. "I have something for you, courtesy of Optimus. Don't tell anyone he has a sense of humor, though. The Big Chief claims he has an image to uphold. Just know that the Autobots are all equipped with recording devices. Everything they see, you can see if you download the right information. He told me to give this to you."

Gibbs took the silver disc. On the DVD was the logo emblazoned on the front of the Peterbilt's grill and a date. Gibbs noticed it was from yesterday. "Is this what I think it is?"

Leaning back in his chair, Lennox said, "If you're thinking it's a video of DiNozzo's eyes rolling back in his head and passing out cold to the floor, then yes. Just make sure you don't lose it. The Autobots are visible on it. The quality is remarkable. Puts Blu-ray to shame."

Though he had positively no clue what Blu-ray was, the NCIS agent was beginning to like the NEST commander more and more by each passing minute. "Captain Lennox, thank you. You have no idea how much this will help me."

Lennox laughed. "Oh, I have one of my own like DiNozzo, and poor Prime has it worse. Have you met the Minor Twins yet?"

"Nope. Do I want to?"

"Probably not. You'd just want to shoot them. I will admit it's really funny watching them piss off Ironhide and Ratchet though," Looking at the clock, Lennox saw it was 0730, and time for him to get moving. Gibbs thought it would be a good idea to go check on his people and Lennox had a war to fight.

"I should go make sure none of my people are blowing up your base."

"Oh, believe me. That's been done already. If you're talking explosion, you're talking Ironhide." Will rolled his eyes at the memory of Ironhide's tantrum over being wet and overruled by none other than his wife.

"Yeah. That's what worries me. I saw him and Ziva talking this morning," Gibbs said as he and Lennox both stood.

"Oh, God." The young Captain's face visibly paled a couple of shades.

Gibbs walked out of Lennox's office and toward the oversized hanger door. Following his instincts, he made his way over to the technology center to check on McGee's progress with Mitchell's laptop. As he cleared the door, he saw rays of sun dancing off the expensive looking paint job of the red and blue semi currently driving back towards the hanger. Prime revved his engine a couple thousand RPMs as a greeting to Gibbs. In turn, the Gunny raised his coffee cup to the Autobot leader.

Taking a brief moment to run an external scan, Prime's attention was drawn to the two Autobots approximately fifty yards to his right. Optimus knew, as a commander, certain types of bots were prone to boredom with higher frequency than others. Those soldiers he knew to keep plenty busy, lest the base find themselves victims of all lascivious and lewd pranks said soldiers might dream up.

Namely, Skids and Mudflap.

As Prime returned from his morning drive, he spied both the reddish Trax and bright green Beat talking animatedly amongst themselves as they pointed toward Agent DiNozzo. Narrowing his optics in suspicion, Optimus put his limited reconnaissance training to good use and crept silently up behind his two main troublemakers.

"Hey, bro check it out! Ain't he one of them dudes from NC, uh, that Navy place?" Mudflap asked as he and his twin watched DiNozzo move through the chow line.

"Yeah, I think so. I heard Epps talking to Lennox about one 'o them passing out on the floor," Skids straightened up and fell backwards dramatically to accent his story, "when they saw the old guys."

"Oh, man! You heard about that, too? Sam and Mikeala told me that the little femme was making fun of one of the guys for doin' it. Imagine that!" Mudflap snickered.

As the twins dissolved into a fit of giggles, a deep voice from behind and high above their shoulders made both Skids and Mudflap nearly wet their armor. "Old guys?"

Skids and Muflap whirled around as fast as they could, knocking each over in the process. The twins fell to the ground, hitting and kicking as they fought to be the first one back to standing. Both came up holding their noseplates and swearing at one another. It was only millions of years of command that allowed Optimus the ability to not laugh out loud at the fools his soldiers were making of themselves. Clearing his vocalizer, he prepared to be as steady as he could in reprimand.

"I sincerely hope you weren't referring to Agent Gibbs, you two," Prime said, deadpanned.

Skids and Mudflap shook their heads so fast Optimus thought their neck servos might fail and snap in pieces. "No. No. That's not who we were talking about."

"Then who, if I might ask?"

The twins exchanged worried looks. "We're gonna, uh, what is it again? Oh yeah! We plead the fifth, Prime. That's it!" Skids implored, hoping his "brilliant" diversion tactic would work.

Optimus rolled his optics heavenward. "You two have too much time to surf the internet and watch TV. Why don't you go talk to our new guests? You might learn something from them, Primus forbid." Optimus grabbed both twins by the shoulder armor and emphatically encouraged them to move toward DiNozzo.

Tony looked up from his breakfast to see Optimus Prime practically dragging two of his soldiers in his general direction. Shoveling down the last of his toast, DiNozzo disposed of his garbage and put the tray in its proper place. He still wasn't accustomed to the sight of a thirty foot alien robot, and couldn't help the involuntary squirm in his chair when Prime's intense gaze locked with his own.

"Special Agent DiNozzo, I'd like to introduce you to two of my _finest_," Prime said, emphasizing the word, "soldiers, Skids and Mudflap. You two, this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

"Hey guys. And it's just Tony or DiNozzo," he said as he unconsciously studied both new robots. "Are you guys twins or something?"

Skids and Mudflap both laughed. "Hey! Maybe these guys aren't so dumb--" Optimus cut Mudflap off with a well placed elbow to the Trax's shoulder. "Ow. That hurt, boss bot."

"Forgive them. They haven't been on Earth long, and as such, have not developed much in the way of respecting customs. Though, I don't think you two had any manners to begin with," Prime amended, staring daggers into his twin terrors.

"Yeah, what can you do, right?" Skids said with a little shrug.

Dropping to one knee as he had done with Gibbs, Prime looked at DiNozzo. "Tony, may I ask you a favor?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"It has come to my attention Skids and Mudflap have too much time on their hands. I also understand they lack any kind of cultural sensitivity. I was hoping you could help them in that area," Optimus said. If they didn't kill each other by the end of the day, Prime would count it as a win.

Tony eyed the big leader skeptically. "What do you want me to do?"

"I understand you have an affinity for pop culture. Teach them Earth traditions, please."

DiNozzo's eyes shot back to the twins, both looking pitifully confused. Tony cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together. "All right. I can roll with that. DiNozzos never back down from a challenge!"

"I thought it was that DiNozzos do not pass out, Tony." Tony bit the bottom of his lip, Ziva's smug voice floating through the air as she and Ironhide strolled by.

"We don't pass out from _drinking_, Ziva. I don't know what a DiNozzo would do if they saw a giant alien robot because it's never happened before!" Tony hissed back. Turning to Optimus, he said. "We can make this work."

Skids and Mudflap ignored Tony, focusing instead on Ziva's words. Laughing jovially, Mudflap said, "That was you! Oh, wow, man. You see all the ol- I mean senior officers, and wham! Down you go!"

"That wasn't me, it was another NCIS agent. I don't know where you got your intel, but you need to find better sources, guys. First lesson of Earth: don't believe everything you hear," Tony said, bringing both hands up to emphasize his point. "Now, where's your recreation area. I think we should start there."

"Does that work for you, bro?" Skids asked.

"Works for me," Mudflap answered.

"Then lead the way," DiNozzo instructed. This was going to be one interesting day.

**Next Up**: Meeting the Autobots continues, as does the insanity. I told you guys this chapter was going to be massive, and it is. I'm splitting it into two parts, mainly because I don't want a 10,000 word single chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: This whole story was based off a bunny prompt on the Cybertronian (LJ newsletter community), which said, "Write a story based off this line [McGee from Chimera]: _"So pirates, who weren't really pirates, were actually Russian sailors, who were on a covert mission to steal a navy research ship, that wasn't actually a navy research ship, in order to get back nuclear weapons that we thought they didn't think we had retrieved?_" Yeah. Blame them for this insanity.

So, I've gotten a little carried away with the whole NCIS meets the Autobots thing. But come on, can you blame me? We'll get back to the plot during this chapter. Oh, and for those of you who have wanted to see Abby, I'm sorry. I just can't figure out a realistic way in the story to get her from D.C. to Diego Garcia that works for the story and characters. Now, before you all throw rotten vegetables at me, know she's my (already completed) epilogue and that **I'm giving everyone's favorite lab tech her own 'I met giant robots' story**, which I'll begin posting a week or two after I complete titled _All Expenses Paid_, it's in the early stages of outline and development right now. I want to focus on the current story so I don't keep my dear readers waiting forever. Like the previous two chapters, I think you'll find both are worth the wait.

Finally, _italics_ in this chapter represent the person on the other end of a phone conversation, the one the camera wouldn't "see".

**Disclaimer**: Oh, don't I wish. Alas, neither franchise belongs to me. I wouldn't mind having a giant alien robot as my car, though. Can't find a parking spot? No problem! He'll just make you one. Oh, you might be parking over a crater in the ground, but life would be sweet.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

"Aha! I win!" McGee shouted triumphantly, smiling brightly. "We're in."

"You got it?" Maggie asked, rolling her chair over toward McGee and Glen. McGee nodded emphatically, his frustration at his inability to hack Mitchell's defenses wearing on him. The large plasma screen lit up green and the voice of Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation wafted through the speakers with a curt, 'Ah! I have access,' as the program allowed McGee to pursue the contents of the final partition of Mitchell's hard drive.

"Finally," McGee added with sarcasm. "You'd think we were trying to break into Fort Knox or something."

"Okay, let's see what deep, dark secrets Petty Officer Mitchell was hiding, shall we?" Glen cracked his knuckles before beginning to type. Various files and folders popped up onto the screen. "Okay, we've got bank records, personal journal, chat logs, emails and it looks like lots and _lots_ of porn. My eyes! Hmm. Any ideas?"

"Let's divide and conquer. We each take one section. Erm, not the porn section. We'll take care of that later. Much later," McGee stammered, his face turning a lovely shade of crimson when he realized how that sounded. "I mean, we'll go through it if we need to later. Ah, I'll start with the bank records."

"I'll take the personal journal," Glen volunteered.

"So, I guess that leaves me with the chat logs and emails," Maggie said as each hacker moved to their own station to begin their work.

Glen squinted once again as he began his work. Clicking on Mitchell's personal journal, he gave a cursory glance to the entire file. As he read and reread the information, Glen gave out a strangled groan.

"It's in code! Are you serious? We've spent the whole morning trying to crack this egg, and now that we finally do, it's in freakin' _code_?"

McGee rolled over toward Glen's station, the knot in his stomach growing rapidly as he looked at the screen. Mitchell's journal entries consisted of nothing but random letters and numbers, strung together in no particular fashion. Clicking and typing furiously away, McGee felt his own frustration being to mount. "I've never seen anything like this before, but we need to solve it. It's the only lead we have."

"What do you suggest, Agent McGee?" Maggie asked.

"I need to make a phone call," Tim said as he excused himself from the group. Digging his cell phone out of his pocket, McGee began to dial Abby's lab. As he was about to press 'send', he realized how irritated she was bound to be with him. Sighing, McGee walked across the hanger to the communication room to use a secure, non-traceable satellite feed to call and ask for Abby's help.

The phone rang in his ear and McGee resolved to sound cheerful. "Hey, Abby. How's D.C.?"

"_Oh, hey McGee. Well, D.C. is great, except my team up and disappeared in the middle of night without so much as a phone call. Then, once they finally call me again, no one can tell me what's going on. But other than that, it's been just peachy."_

McGee winced. Abby was not pleased in the slightest. Only when she was really upset did she lay the sarcasm on that thickly. "Abby, I told you already I'm really sorry about that. I'm under orders - the _national security_ kind - not to say anything!"

"_But McGee!"_ she whined pitifully. Tim could mentally see her in her lab, stomping her right foot and sagging in posture.

Tim began to pace, gesturing animatedly with his hands. "Look, Abby. Gibbs already asked. The leader of the special ops group in charge of where we are will not allow you to come! He said it's too dangerous."

"_What do you mean, too dangerous? How could a piece of funky metal in a dead Petty Officer be too dangerous_?"

McGee sighed. Apparently, Gibbs had spoken with Optimus the night previous regarding Abby, Ducky and Palmer. In addition to McGee's request regarding Abby, Gibbs was genuinely concerned they may be in danger from the Decepticons since they all had some sort of contact with the Allspark shard. However, the two leaders came to the conclusion that the less the three back in D.C. knew, the better off they would be. Optimus had brought Gibbs' team together to discuss the matter later that night and the group worked to hash out a cover story. Gibbs, Ziva, Tony and McGee decided their cover story was to be that the NCIS team found an experimental piece of metal, and that Prime's team was special ops group. At least it wasn't _totally_ a lie.

"Abby, the big boss of this place says no, and that's final. When he puts his foot down, he _puts his foot down_," Tim said, praying Abby would forgive him if she ever found out what his words really meant.

There was a pregnant pause from Abby's end of the line. Sighing, she said, "_Okay. I understand, McGee. But that doesn't mean I like it!_"

"That's more like it, Abbs."

"_Now, what can I do for you, Timmy?_"

"I'm having some trouble with Mitchell's laptop," he said, sitting down in a chair in the corner of the sat room.

"_You got in? How the hell did you manage that? I worked all freakin' night on that thing, and I couldn't even break the first partition_!"

"It wasn't easy but I did it," McGee responded, not wanting to give away any details about Glen and Maggie and their involvement unless he positively had to. "The problem was, once I got in, I found the whole thing is in code."

"_Like HTML code, or 'We are so screwed,' code?_"

"We're more than screwed if we don't figure this out, Abbs. I need your help. I can't get clearance to send you any of this information because of security risks, but can you send me that code program of yours? You know, the one that deciphers code? I don't have time to write another one, and yours is better anyway," McGee said, thinking that by appealing to her geek nature, it might soften the blow.

"_Augh! Tim! You call me, tell me nothing, and you want __**my**__ program to solve __**your**__ case?_" A huff. "_Fine, but you better believe you have some explaining to do when I see you again!_"

The phone clicked in his ear. "That went well," Tim mused to himself. McGee stood and walked back over to look at the information from behind Glen's shoulder.

"Any luck?" Maggie asked, not bothering to turn around in her chair.

"Our forensic tech has a program she wrote that might help us. We've entered in every single code and it's translations we could think of or that we saw. The program compares each code to the exemplar and gives us possible solutions," McGee said. "I know it's not much, but it's better than sitting here and guessing."

"And until that program gets here?" Glen asked.

"We sit here and guess," Maggie answered despondently.

McGee sat back down at his terminal and started typing. Finding his concentration was most decidedly elsewhere, he pushed his chair back and stood. "Does anyone mind if I go explore a little bit? We've been working at this non stop, and I kinda – Well--," he trailed off.

Maggie laughed. "Go ahead, Tim. It's not every day you'll get to see this. I think we can afford an hour's break, don't you?"

McGee practically bolted from the technology center and made a beeline straight for the Autobot hanger. He walked in the open doors and marveled at the sight. It was so big! Looking to his left, McGee saw a long hallway with several doors at varying intervals and what appeared to be a large recreation room at the end of the hall. A peek to his right gave him much of the same, though at the end of that corridor appeared to be a medical bay instead of a rec room. Though he was curious as to what Cybertronian recreation consisted of, McGee had wanted to talk to Ratchet. So far, the yellow Hummer was the only being who dared dress down Gibbs and subsequently lived to tell the tale. Secretly, Tim wanted some tips.

Finding the medbay devoid of all Autobots besides the surly medic, McGee hesitantly stepped in. Ratchet was in the corner, polishing and cleaning some tools with his back to the entrance.

"Hello? Ratchet?"

The yellow bot turned around and spied Tim at the doors to his domain, his optics narrowing. "Agent McGee. What trouble have you gotten yourself into today?"

Tim shuffled in unsurely. There was something about the intense blue gazes of the Autobots that made him feel like a wet behind the ears probie again, instead of a field agent with four years' experience. He distractedly wondered if his comrades felt the same.

"Ah, no trouble. I'm just procrastinating. I was working on Mitchell's hard drive, and I think my eyes are going to fall out of my head if I had to stare at those screens any longer," McGee said morosely.

The medic in him took over primary functions instantly and Ratchet's version of the Hippocratic Oath booted every secondary program to the back of his processor. Running a scan to be sure, Ratchet said, "Well, my data shows that you're in no danger of that. However, I didn't know that your species was able to shed body parts or organs and live."

McGee chuckled, finding the tingly sensation of Ratchet's medical scan not entirely unlike the after effects of a TASER hit. "It was an expression, Ratchet."

The Autobot looked puzzled for a brief moment and then morphed to mildly irritated. "Oh. Slag it, I haven't mastered human subtlety yet."

"Don't worry. Neither has Ziva, and she's from this planet," McGee jovially remarked. "You at least have an excuse and all."

Ratchet finished polishing the last wrench and moved to sit at his desk. For once, he felt comfortable enough to drop the cranky medic routine and enjoy the company of a being who wanted nothing more than to learn from him. Tim McGee had a quality about him Ratchet hadn't seen in a long time, and a character trait he'd seen only in a few select humans on Earth. The Autobot medic discovered most humans, though well meaning, always needed to receive something in return for services or goods rendered. Ratchet surmised that give and get mentality harkened back to humanity's roots as a hunter-gatherer nomadic species, but it didn't make it any less annoying when the Autobots encountered it.

For some reason Ratchet couldn't quite pinpoint however, Tim reminded him of a dockworker he knew long ago named Orion Pax. Maybe it was eagerness or the pure naivety McGee possessed. Perhaps it was because the medic knew McGee couldn't be manipulative or evil unless his life truly depended on it. Or possibly the reminder came because he simply wanted to believe in the good of the universe for once. Ratchet smiled sadly at the last thought to run through his processor. He hadn't thought of Orion Pax in a very long time, and he doubted Optimus had either. Sometimes he wondered if there was anything left of the carefree Orion in Optimus, or if centuries of war had erased it completely.

"Ratchet?" McGee queried for the second time, the medic's thoughts noticeably distant. "Do you mind I'm here? If I'm in your way, I'll leave," McGee half asked and half stated, still unsure what he should make of the Autobot medic.

"No. You're fine. If I wanted you out, I would have thrown you out. Besides, after my last appointment, I wouldn't mind a little company that doesn't try to give orders back," Ratchet responded as he lowered his hand. McGee looked with trepidation at the medic's hand, and then stepped on. Ratchet brought him up to his desk and allowed the NCIS agent to walk off. Stepping on to an Autobot sized desk and over an appointment calendar, McGee couldn't help but notice his last appointment was, 'Service. Optimus. Overdue x three'. The snicker that escaped his mouth didn't get past the yellow Hummer.

"Yes, Prime was my last appointment, and for good reason. That mech is the most obstinate I have ever met when it comes to his own health. Usually have to tie him down and offline him before he'll let me take care of him."

"Hmm. Sounds like Gibbs," McGee agreed, shuddering involuntarily as memories of PinPin Pula, Gibbs and the _Cape Fear_ just a few short months ago running through his mind.

Having a distinctly better view of medbay from atop Ratchet's desk, McGee took a moment to look around. Five large beds, or berths, as he thought he heard them called, were set up prominently in the center of the bay. Each had its own set of equipment, lights and monitors. In fact, discounting the foreign looking equipment, the setup was very similar to that of a human emergency room.

"Do you run this place all by yourself?" Tim asked. "Looks huge, and hard, and a lot of work."

"Yes is it, but I'd rather have it that way. No one to get in my way," Ratchet answered as he plucked a human sized chair off the floor and set it on his desk for McGee.

"Or step on," McGee added, then clamped his mouth shut when he realized how rude it sounded. "I didn't mean it that way, Ratchet."

"Hmm. You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. And, call me Tim," McGee stuttered, sitting in the chair. Taking a breath to and scratching the side of his head, McGee said, "Ratchet, I have some questions, and I hope you wouldn't mind answering them. I'd go to Ironhide, but I think he might just shoot me. I'd ask Optimus, but he seems so busy. Not that you're not, but I just--," McGee sighed and stopped himself before he made a complete spectacle of himself. "I'm screwing this all up."

Ratchet chuckled. "Yes you are, but I might be able to forgive you. As far as squishies are concerned, you could be a lot worse."

McGee beamed, his face lighting completely. "Cool."

"Now, what would you like to know?" Ratchet asked, having information that a similar conversation had taken place between Ironhide and Ziva earlier that morning.

"You said you guys are at war. Why? And what's Cybertron?" McGee started.

"Cybertron is, or was our home. And as Prime told you yesterday, we're at war for a multitude of reasons, the main being the Allspark. We've been fighting a long time, McGee. It was once a beautiful place. Now it's nothing," Ratchet said sadly. McGee mentally booted himself in the head. Leave it to him to start with a question that would upset the yellow medic.

"I'm sorry, Ratchet. It wasn't my intention to upset you," McGee said.

"You didn't, Tim. I realized Cybertron was lost long ago and I accepted it for what it was. Now, Earth is our home and I'm glad for it. Integration has had its ups and downs, mainly for Ironhide, but we're learning."

McGee chose to ignore the little snip directed at the Autobot version of Ziva. Even without being physically present, Ironhide flat out scared McGee. "So, how did you get here? I mean, I know you were here for the Allspark, but why are you still here?"

"We are here because Prime believes in protecting all life. He feels responsible for bringing our war to your planet, and because he's a self-sacrificing glitch of an idiot, he feels we should redeem ourselves for jettisoning the Allspark into space, and conversely, to Earth. If the cube had not landed here, we would not be here, and hence would not have caused any disturbance to your way of life," Ratchet grumbled.

McGee nodded again. "How hard has bureaucracy made your existence here?"

Ratchet scoffed. "Just say I'm glad Prime deals with all that slag. If it were up to Ironhide or me, heads would probably be rolling. No. Check that. Heads _would_ be rolling. Prime just has an endless supply of patience."

"I met the Chevy twins last night. To deal with those two, he'd have to!" McGee said as he and Ratchet shared a chuckle. "What are you guys made out physically? Are you, like, computers or how does that work?"

"We are not organic in any way. Our soul is our spark," Ratchet began. "But, before I go any further, understand that what I'm about to show you few humans have been cleared to see. I know I can count on your discretion."

"Yeah, of course. You know I'm just curious."

Seemingly satisfied, Ratchet split his chestplates open at the seams to reveal a glowing blue orb nestled behind an area in the same vicinity of a human sternum. The medic gently tapped the support structure with the index finger of his right hand as he made optic to eye contact once again with the young NCIS agent. "The device emitting the light is my spark. Who we are: our personalities, likes, dislikes, memories, what drives us, makes us happy or sad; everything is contained there. Anything else can be changed or overwritten."

"You mean Ironhide could do something _other_ than just shoot things if he wanted to?" McGee's voice jumped nearly an octave with surprise.

"Good Primus, no. There are some things that will never be able to be changed, and that's one of them, though he's more of an exception rather than the rule. Ironhide was sparked for war. He's doing what he knows and what he's good at. What I meant was that each bot had a designation if you will, a group of things at which he would likely excel. From those, his individuality would take over and he would decide what of those things would be the right one for him."

"Well, that's not unlike people. Certain people are better at some things than others. People can change their careers or their lives to better suit their personalities, and you guys are kind of the same."

Ratchet nodded, his armor snapping back in place to protect his life source. "That's right."

"I get that your soul is contained in that blue thing, your spark," McGee started, unsure once again. "But what happens if your spark…goes out?"

"We die," Ratchet succinctly stated. "Whether it's a heart ceasing to beat or a spark extinguishing, the end result for either species is the same."

Tapping his finger on his chin thoughtfully, McGee looked to clarify what he'd learned so far from the Autobot medic. "So, you guys basically have super computers for brains, but that's not what develops your individualism, right?"

"Correct, though the 'super computer' you think of and how we process are night and day. Human technology is so primitive," Ratchet groused. "Haven't even figured out nanotechnology yet, so I can't expect you to understand how we operate."

Tim's jaw hit Ratchet's desktop. _Evolved past nanotechnology! Unbelievable!_ Shaking his head, he asked, "But the rest of you is like a car then, right?"

Ratchet paused, thinking how best to frame his response. "Yes and no, though like I said, I won't even begin to try and explain it. You'd just be frustrated and very, very confused. Suffice to say we just have more stuff crammed into our forms than you would expect, and we can shift those things around on a molecular level."

McGee let out a low whistle of appreciation. Wrapping his brain around all this alien technology was going to take some time and some serious effort. Tim was vaguely certain he'd never fully adjust, but he figured it was just as good to simply enjoy the ride.

"How did you guys come up with your car looks? I can't imagine you would have known what a Hummer looked like when you were still on Cybertron."

Ratchet chuckled. "Of course not. When we landed here, we all scanned alternate vehicle forms. My form is just one that happened to be convenient to the place I landed."

"So, you guys could pick anything you wanted?" McGee looked puzzled, and stood to pace around Ratchet's desk.

"No. It doesn't work quite like that. We still have to adhere to the laws of physics, Tim. Let me explain," Ratchet began, adjusting his armor once again so McGee could peer in. "Under our armor, we have what we call our protoforms. It's our base, of sorts. Every bot's form is different in size and shape, depending on what we were sparked to do. When we choose an alt form, we must find one that's close to the mass of our protoforms."

Tim thought momentarily, analyzing the dull grey of Ratchet's primary structure. It was such a contrast to the vibrant colors of his alt form. "So what you're saying is, there's no way Optimus Prime could have crammed himself into a Dodge Neon. That's why he's a gigantic Peterbilt, right?"

Ratchet optics dimmed as he checked the reference with the internet before replying. "Correct, though I would have paid good credits to see Prime try that one."

During the length of time Ratchet was answering McGee's questions, Tim found himself inching closer and closer to the Autobot medic. He was so close in fact, all McGee had to do was just reach out. Without consciously realizing what his hands were doing, McGee's fingers began to gently poke and prod at Ratchet's armor and protoform in innate curiosity. McGee was transfixed, reverently admiring the mechanical work of genius that was Ratchet. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the evolution of the Cybertronian species as a whole that brought them to the point they were currently at.

Ratchet stilled in his chair, clearing his vocalizer loudly. "Agent McGee, what on Cybertron do you think you're doing?"

McGee's eyes went wide in abject horror. Backing up as fast as his legs would allow, Tim tripped over the chair he was previously occupying, landing in a heap of limbs much like DiNozzo had done the day previous. "Ratchet! I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that, but I--"

Ratchet cut him off with a wave of his hand and tucked his chin down to hide the smile that was ghosting over his faceplates. Much like Gibbs, Ratchet enjoyed scaring the slag out of the subordinates. Even more like Gibbs, the medic would never, ever admit he was purposely doing it.

"Just don't do it again. Remember that while I look like a Hummer in practice, I am most certainly not one in reality. Where you might see only wires, know that I can feel exactly what you're doing. It would be like me poking around your insides," the medic groused, though his words were without their usual bite.

Deciding he'd embarrassed himself enough for a few hours, McGee stood back as he prepared to take his leave of Ratchet's medbay. "Well, I'd better get back to work before my boss has my head. It's been nice talking with you, Ratchet. I learned a lot," McGee said, stepping on to Ratchet's proffered hand as the medic lowered him to the floor.

"Likewise, Tim. Visit at your own risk next time."

"I'll take you up on that, I think. Either way, anyone who can pick and win an argument with Gibbs has my instant respect. I want to know how you did that, by the way." Ratchet was nonplussed, his facial expression giving nothing away. Before he stepped out of medbay, McGee stopped and turned toward the medic one last time. "You know, you're not nearly as crabby as you seem."

Ratchet quirked a smile and put a yellow and grey finger to his lips. Turning back into the cranky, wrench-throwing bot McGee had initially met, he said, "And you'll do well to keep that to yourself, Agent McGee. I'm only crabby because certain mechs make me that way." McGee nodded in understanding, his mind flashing back to the note about Optimus on Ratchet's appointment calendar.

McGee made his way out of medbay and down the hall of the Autobot building toward the exit. Hearing a familiar voice, Tim changed directions to find DiNozzo in the gigantic Autobot sized rec room with Skids and Mudflap. On the up side, no one was fighting, but the downside was that they were joking and laughing. Loudly. Coming around the corner, McGee saw DiNozzo, Skids and Mudflap all looking decidedly relaxed and enjoying themselves.

"So, let me see if I have this straight. Cars that weren't really cars, but were actually giant alien robots, were on a covert mission to find a kid with a pair of glasses that wasn't really glasses but actually a map to get back an object that creates life on your world that we thought they didn't think we had found?"

Silence rang around the rec room. "Huh? Hey man, we don't follow. Do we?" Skids said, his face contorting itself in confusion. "Did you get that, bro?"

"Naw. Dude lost me when he started talkin' about 'giant alien robots' or something," Mudflap said. He held up a couple of fingers and began ticking off points. Optic ridges furrowing, he gave up. "Nope. Still confused."

McGee cleared his throat, announcing his presence. "Don't worry. Tony rarely makes any sense. You're not alone."

"Oh, good. I felt dumb there for a couple of seconds," Skids said. "Do you know what he meant?"

Tim shook his head. "No idea. Care to enlighten us, DiNozzo?"

"Oh, I was just asking Skids and Mudflap why you guys are here in the first place. I was trying to clarify," DiNozzo said in response. "And apparently, I seem to have made it worse."

McGee shook his head in exasperation. For such a skilled and competent investigator, DiNozzo surely had a knack for confusing even the smartest people. Now, he was moving on to a completely new race of beings to annoy. Secretly, McGee was happy Tony's attention was focused on the Autobots, as that gave him a welcome reprieve from the day-to-day lighthearted teasing. It wasn't that Tim hated it, but he could certainly do without it.

Surveying the room in earnest, McGee saw DiNozzo standing with one half of the Minor Twins, the green Beat. In Skids' hand was a basketball, and about ten or twelve feet in front of the two were ten, five-gallon paint buckets arranged in a triangle shape. Behind the buckets stood Skids' twin, Mudflap. Skids bounced the ball off the floor and though his brother tried to deflect it, the orange ball landed cleanly in one of the buckets with a 'sploosh'.

"Aw, man!" Mudflap yelled as he grabbed the bucket and chugged the contents.

McGee shook his head. Clearing his throat, he said, "Beer pong, Tony? Are you serious?"

DiNozzo turned his head to the entrance of the room. "McGee, I'm under Optimus Prime's orders to teach Skids and Mudflap here some things about life on Earth. Who better to do it? Beer pong is a time honored tradition of Earth beings around their age."

"Tony, think. I know that's a hard thing for you to do, but just think for once. Beer pong. BEER. PONG," McGee said once again. "What's wrong with football?"

"Just because you MIT geniuses think advanced calculus is a way to relax, it doesn't mean the rest of us are that lame, McGeek. Go. You're interrupting our game," DiNozzo said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

"Whatever, DiNozzo. I don't think Optimus' idea of 'cultural exchange' was showing these two how to get loaded."

Stepping around the corner, Ironhide's gruff voice boomed through the room. "Indeed it wasn't."

DiNozzo gulped in fear as Ironhide fixed his intimidating glare down on the NCIS agent. Tony was loath to admit it, but he had finally found someone who scared him more than Gibbs. In fact, Gibbs was now a distant second on the DiNozzo Fear Chart, mainly because Gibbs just had a Sig with pinpoint accuracy. Ironhide had two cannons with independent targeting systems, infrared, night vision and a damn bad attitude to top it off.

Taking a deep breath, DiNozzo did his best to look unaffected. "I was just showing these guys a favorite pastime of mine."

McGee snorted loudly. "I'll bet."

Ironhide crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his optics. "And what is this - beer pong - you're teaching them?"

"Oh, it's nothing bad, I promise. It's just a little harmless fun."

Mudflap chose that unfortunate moment to open his mouth. "Yeah, O Great Slayer of Decepticreeps. We're just using regular energon, not high grade. No one would tell us the code to Prime's quarters so we could go borrow some the good stuff."

The green Beat smashed his brother in the face. "Dude! Shut up! What's wrong with you?!" Looking back at Ironhide, Skids smiled innocently. "Don't mind him. He don't know what he's saying."

Ironhide scowled, not knowing if he should laugh or shoot something. "For the record, Prime does _not_ have any high grade hidden in his personal quarters. Furthermore, any ideas to 'infiltrate and liberate' anything from your commanding officers' _private_ space is expressly forbidden. Are we clear?"

Skids and Mudflap nodded.

"And as for you," Ironhide lectured as he looked straight at DiNozzo, his eyes boring into Tony like an x-ray machine, "what are you doing teaching my soldiers a drinking game?"

"Uh, I thought it would be helpful. You know, lighten the mood."

"Yeah, 'Hide. He taught us the boring stuff already. We wanted to see how humans party," Mudflap happily added. "Besides, you missed the fun one. Hall Ball is the greatest game ever invented!"

DiNozzo cringed again. If Ironhide ever found out what shenanigans hall ball involved, the NCIS agent was sure he'd be toast. Literally.

The big black mech cycled his vents. "Cease this game immediately and clean this mess up. Agent DiNozzo, I think it's time you returned to the human hanger, don't you think?"

Tony set the basketball on the floor. "Yeah. You're probably right."

Ironhide followed DiNozzo out of the Autobot hanger and assigned Skids and Mudflap extra patrols. Maybe that would keep their processors focused on the task at hand, rather than the NCIS squishy's drinking game. Seeing Tony safely ensconced back to his quarters, Ironhide transformed and drove out to the shooting range. He found Ziva waiting impatiently for him.

"Ziva."

"I thought you hand an internal chronometer, Ironhide. Surely you can be on time with one of those, yes?" she lightly teased.

"I do, femme. I had to take care of a discipline problem, perpetrated by your man DiNozzo," Ironhide gruffly complained as he transformed out of his alt mode.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Yes, Tony has a way of getting into trouble. What was he doing this time, if you would care to tell me."

"Have you ever heard of Earth games called hall ball and beer pong?"

Ziva groaned loudly. "I am going to kill him. He might be my partner and my friend, but I swear I will kill him with a single paper clip! And will not even leave a mark!"

"Good. Maybe you can explain their purpose to me," Ironhide answered.

Ziva threw her hands up and began pacing the safe zone of the target range. "There is no purpose! Hall ball and beer pong are two of the stupidest games on the face of this Earth! And I do not mean that in the figurative sense! Do you have any idea how violent of a game hall ball can be?"

"No. Like I said before: _I don't know what it is!_" Ironhide "politely" reminded her.

Scoffing, Ziva stopped her pacing momentarily. "Hall ball is soccer meshed with American football and a hint of rugby, indoors, with a broomball. In a hallway. You do the math. I could punch him in the face right now."

"Would you settle for just shooting the slag out of some target drones?" Ironhide asked, his cannons spinning and whirling to life.

"At this point, I would like to launch _Tony_ at the target drones," Ziva mumbled under her breath.

"That would be fun," Ironhide laughed. "I think Prime might have my aft if we actually did. Be worth it, but self restraint is a bitch."

Ziva nodded her hearty acquiescence. "Agreed!"

"Instead of getting our processors in a sling, let's just shoot Barrett and Stinger instead," Ironhide said, patting his cannons with the opposite hands.

It took a couple of seconds for Ziva's brain to make the connection. She looked at the weapons specialist, incredulous. "Wait. You _named_ your cannons?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?" Ironhide asked, sounding slightly hurt. "You humans name your pets, and other inanimate objects. Why shouldn't I name the two things that have kept me online for so long?"

"There is nothing wrong with that. It's just that I would not expect something like that from someone like you. But, in any case, they are good choices in names. Appropriate. A high caliber vehicle mounted gun and an anti-aircraft missile system. I like it."

"Thanks," Ironhide mumbled. He quickly added, "Not that I needed your approval, femme. Now, shall we?"

Thunderous booms rained across the base as Ironhide showed Ziva how his systems worked. Ironhide, though not really a vain mech in the sense of looks (he _did_ choose a black alt mode), did have a healthy dose of male pride. If he were pressed by Prime or Ratchet, he would admit he was showing off, too. Ziva seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, her only wish that she could be up with Ironhide as he fired, rolled and twisted. The Mossad officer marveled at how gracefully he moved, given his significant mass and obvious immense strength.

An hour later, Ironhide's cannons were smoking and the target drones were reduced to small piles of rubbish. The Topkick scooped them all up and dumped the refuse unceremoniously in the recycle bin erected for range use. Folding himself down into his alt mode once again, he offered Ziva a ride back to base.

"I have some things I need to take care of. I'll give you a lift back to the human hanger, though," he said through his speakers.

"Thank you, Ironhide. I enjoyed the target practice. Perhaps tomorrow, we might be able to find some appropriately sized squishy weapons. I do not wish to get rusty," Ziva responded.

Ironhide laughed. "You got it, femme."

* * *

McGee tossed a tennis ball against the wall. Several hours after finally cracking Mitchell's encryption and the geeks were nowhere closer to solving the riddle of his code. Glen had gone in search of a doughnut, and Maggie was sitting with her forehead resting on her forearms.

"God, even that magic program of yours didn't even help, McGee! This is ridiculous!" Maggie whined pitifully. Frustration was at an all time high.

"What are we missing? What are we not seeing?" McGee vented as he got up to pace, still bouncing the tennis ball off the ground. Playing with something in his hands when he was stuck was a habit he had picked up from DiNozzo during Tony's short tenure as team leader. Apparently, it was the only habit that stuck.

Maggie groaned, her voice muffled by her arms. "Nothing! This guy was a crypto for the Navy for a reason. He's just better than us!"

"Yeah, but no one's this perfect. Look, there's three of us, and we're all relatively good at what we do. There was only one of Mitchell. So, either he's an alien too…"

Maggie's head shot up from its previous rested position. "Or he had _help_ from one! McGee, you're a genius! I see it now!"

"What? What do you see?" Glen came scurrying back into the room, a large plate of doughnuts in hand.

"Oh, good! Glen, remember when I brought you that SD card of info from the Pentagon?" Maggie asked excitedly.

"Yeah, the one you were convinced you'd go to prison for the rest of your life for showing me?" Glen asked, setting down his doughnuts. McGee quirked his left eyebrow in the Australian's direction.

"Another time, McGee, but yeah, that one," Maggie said. Turning back to Glen, she said, "Remember how those files were encrypted? You know, how you had to substitute different letters for each other?"

"Yeah, I do, but this doesn't look like that," Glen said, confusion marring his features.

"Well, it's not specifically, but it's like that. Look!" Maggie pulled up a random entry. "Look. 2p7;13L5-29a31m61-11x2-11m13a7;. It was all the letters throwing us off, but they're actually part of the code!" Maggie's excited expression was met by two confused looks. Shaking her head, she grabbed a laser pointer. "The first one. '2p7' means 'two plus seven'."

"That's nine," Glen said.

"Right! And what's the ninth letter of the alphabet?"

"'I'," Glen answered.

"Okay, so we do the next one. '13L5. That means 'thirteen less five'."

"Eight. 'H'," McGee said, grabbing a piece of paper to scribble his findings on.

Looking closer, Glen said, "Hey. Those are all prime numbers up there."

"Yeah, and what's Optimus' title?"

"Prime!" Glen and McGee said together.

"I don't know if that has anything to do with this, but it's definitely a coincidence," Maggie said.

McGee rolled his eyes, his eyes shifting to the code from Mitchell's hard drive to the paper where he was doing his work. "Don't tell Gibbs that. He doesn't believe in coincidences."

"Maggie, this is fantastic! How did you manage to figure this out?" Glen asked.

The blonde smiled brightly. "I don't know. McGee said something, and then my brain just went back to that night I invaded your house."

"I'm amazed," Glen said, giving Maggie a hug.

Meanwhile, McGee had finished his work the first sentence. "Uh, guys? Guys!"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"I translated out the first sentence," he said, pen and paper held loosely in his hand.

"Great! What does it say?" Maggie asked, still bouncing with energy. McGee handed the paper wordlessly over to her.

Both she and Glen appeared at McGee's side and the three computer nerds read as rapidly as their eyes would allow. The dread of what they were seeing immediately replaced the elation of beating some seriously good encryption. The only thing McGee, Glen and Maggie were able to correctly assume from what the last partition of Mitchell's hard drive was telling them was that things were about to get a hell of a lot more complicated for all parties involved.

"Somebody better go get Gibbs," Glen said, his mood going sour as rotten milk. "What? Don't look at me! I am _not_ going to die a virgin!"

* * *

**Next Up**: The computer geeks lay out what they've found, and suffice to say it's not good news. For _anyone_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: This first part of the chapter is for FordB, who wanted to see a reactionary scene of what would happen if DiNozzo managed to simultaneously irritate both Gibbs and Prime. Hope you like it! As a side note, I was doing some research on Wikipedia on the USS John C. Stennis, and according to that site, if one were to stack the required technical manuals for the ship, it would be as tall as the Washington Monument (555 feet). Got one word: _**DAMN!**_

**Disclaimer**: I'm running out of funny things to say in my disclaimers so, we'll go simple. Nothing recognizable is mine. The only thing I own is the wacked out plot I've come up with, so don't sue, savvy?

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

Gibbs was beyond frustrated. After leaving his impromptu breakfast with Captain Lennox, the NCIS team leader had poured over everything he had regarding his dead sailor. Nothing about Petty Officer Mitchell's death made any kind of rational sense. Neither did Optimus Prime and his group, but the Gunny found it better to put that thought to the back of his mind. It made things less complicated, and for Gibbs, less complicated was good. It made him less crabby, which in turn, was good for everyone around him.

Unfortunately, it was a whole _lot_ of complicated that was holding up his case at the present moment. Gibbs never pretended to understand technology, nor did he have the desire to learn. He had a cell phone. He could dial numbers and answer calls. He had email, and he used every once in a great while when Shepherd threatened him over it. That would have to be good enough. All the mumbo-jumbo McGee and Abby constantly talked about binary code, HTML, widgets and URLs made absolutely no sense to him. Gibbs' idea of technical was adjusting for windage and elevation of his next shot. He was glad McGee, with all his nerdly knowledge, was working Mitchell's laptop gizmo with the equally nerdy Glen and Maggie, but he wished it could get done a little bit faster.

It was for those very technologically illiterate and equally impatient reasons Gibbs didn't fully understand the elation in McGee's voice. When his probie called and told the boss he, Glen and Maggie had been able to finally crack the code on Mitchell's laptop, Gibbs was only happy to finally be able to do some quality work and get the hell out of dodge. It was also because of Gibbs' lack of understanding anything developed after 1970 that he missed the boat in respect as to why Tim was so pissed off as well.

Gibbs walked into the tech center and stood in front of the multiple plasma screens propped up on the walls. Bumblebee, Ziva, Ironhide and Lennox were already present. Ironhide and Lennox had returned from lunch at Will's home while Ziva had been working the phones, trying to track down anyone related to Petty Officer Jonathan Mitchell. The man appeared to have few friends and even fewer family members. Analyzing what little he could understand, Gibbs barked a short, "All right McGee. Spill it."

"Uh, Boss, I think we should wait for the rest of the group. This, I think, will involve all of us," McGee responded, absently fiddling with the clicker in his hand.

Gibbs observed his surroundings. "Are we missing DiNozzo again?"

Tim nodded, his head bouncing up and down. "Him, Ratchet and Optimus."

"Are they on their way?"

McGee nodded, shooting Glen a scathing glare for refusing to call the Gunny. "Yeah boss, _I_ called them right after I called you when we got in. They should be here soon. Erm, I hope."

"Good."

McGee and Gibbs turned toward the hanger entrance and a familiar low rumble vibrated the soles of their shoes, Optimus and Ratchet rolling through the door in their alt modes. Stopping in front of the humans, both Autobots went through their transformation sequences slowly. Prime took a knee near the humans while Ratchet chose to remain standing.

"Agent McGee, I understand you've accessed Petty Officer Mitchell's computer," Optimus said smoothly, his battle mask retracted to project a more friendly posture.

Tim smiled proudly as he answered. "I have. Now we're just waiting on DiN--" McGee stopped in mid sentence, his jaw going slack and his eyes darting toward the open hanger doors. "Oh my God."

A startled burst of static played through Bumblebee's speakers followed by, _'Houston, we have a problem.'_

Following McGee's line of sight, Optimus turned his head to observe the spectacle on which every other set of eyes and optics were currently locked. Running a quick diagnostic to make sure nothing was malfunctioning, Prime reanalyzed the optical data one more time just to be sure. Gibbs and Lennox subconsciously wandered up to flank the Autobot commander, all three crossing their arms over their chests and staring incredulously at the sight before them.

Coming across the tarmac front of the hanger door was DiNozzo, Skids and Mudflap, both Autobots in their alt modes. The twins were driving parallel to each other, quicker than protocol allowed and certainly much faster than safety dictated. Anchored perpendicular to the respective roofs of each vehicle was a wooden plank, the board spanning the five-foot distance the twins were apart. Standing on top of the wooden plank and wearing the largest shit-eating grin Gibbs had ever seen was DiNozzo, legs braced and knees bent with his arms out in a surfer pose.

As Skids and Mudflap came to a halt, Tony jumped off his makeshift surfboard, landing with a little flourish and pocketed his matching Ray Ban aviators. Seeing the shocked human and alien faces, Tony threw up his hands and asked, "What? Don't tell me none of you guys have ever heard of car surfing before! No? Seriously! I mean, wow!"

In triplet and simultaneous gestures, Will Lennox, Jethro Gibbs and Optimus Prime all reached up, and with their right hands, pinched the bridges of their respective noses. Prime let out a quiet groan of dismay, while Gibbs settled on a more appropriate growl of irritation.

"None of those are mine. Therefore, none of them are my problem," Will announced hurriedly, spinning on his heel and walking toward McGee. Turning toward Epps as he passed, Lennox hissed, "And if you ever do something that stupid, I will shoot you myself."

Epps threw up his hands in mock defense, still laughing himself. DiNozzo was good, and the sergeant would give him credit for that. But as Bobby glanced toward DiNozzo's boss, he deduced he was most assuredly happy he had chosen to stay far, far away from the Minor Twins that week.

"DiNozzo! What the hell are you doing?" Gibbs barked as DiNozzo sauntered up to the group with his usual swagger.

"I thought I told you, Boss. Car surfing. Really fun. You should try it sometime, though with your--" DiNozzo was cut off by Gibbs' hand smacking him firmly on the back of the head. "Ohh. Shutting up now, Boss."

"Wise move."

Not to be outdone, Ironhide stood to his full height and planted his large hands firmly on his hips. The trigger-happy superior officer didn't bother stopping his cannon gyros from activating, optics flaring to bright blue as Barrett and Stinger spun to life. He focused his gaze down on his two disciplinarily shunted bots and raised a single hand to forestall any unnecessary blabbering from either twin. Calmly, he questioned his two soldiers. "Skids, Mudflap, what the frag were you thinking with that little stunt?"

The two twins stared dumbly up at their boss, hoping whatever response they gave wouldn't get their respective afts shot off. Ironhide, like Gibbs, was not known as patient being. "We, uh. It sounded like a good idea?" Skids threw in a little smile for effect and shrugged innocently.

"Great." Gibbs muttered under his breath. "They're starting to sound like DiNozzo."

From the other side of the hanger, a deep growl emitted from the yellow Hummer's vocalizer. Two silver socket wrenches flew perfectly end over end across the room, making contact with the helms of their intended targets with resounding clangs. Nearly knocking Ironhide over in his haste, the source of the projectiles balled his fists up at his sides and proceeded with the aft chewing of the week.

"Little fraggers! I will have your fuel tanks for that little stunt of yours! Do you know how dangerous that was? What if Agent DiNozzo had fallen? What if you had become distracted? I _know_ how easily that happens!" Ratchet yelled as he stomped toward Skids and Mudflap, optics blazing and fingers pointing. Ironhide came up quietly from behind to assure the Chevys were boxed in. Feeling the full wrath of a medic on the warpath, Skids and Mudflap tried to shrink backwards in abject fear. Both jumped when they ran into the weapons specialist's legs. Sufficiently trapping the twins, Ratchet and Ironhide parted to make room for the Big Guns, otherwise known as Optimus Prime.

Prime engaged his battle mask to increase the intimidation factor before jumping into the figurative fray. Dropping to one knee to be more on their level, Optimus spoke very clearly and very slowly. "Now, you two. I want an explanation." Cocking his head to the side and fixing Skids with a stare, he amended, "The truthful one, Skids."

The Prime's pure embodiment of authority and his shifting, penetrating gaze was too much for either Chevy twin to handle. Feeling a pulse of fear from his brother, Mudflap was the first to crack. "He made us do it!" the Trax screeched, pointing his red finger frantically in DiNozzo's general direction. "He insisted! We didn't want to, but he begged!"

Tony was indignant. "Hey! Don't put all this on me. You both were willing participants!"

Optimus' left optic twitched, the simple involuntary action a subtle tell that gave away his increasing frustration. Where was Prowl when the Boss Bot needed him? Undoubtedly, Optimus' second in command would have been able to think up ingenious and new ways to deter any further stupidity. "Agent DiNozzo made you? Really."

Gibbs chose that particular moment to butt it. "Actually, with Tony, I might be inclined to believe them. Right, DiNozzo?"

Tony looked back and forth, quickly trying to discern which boss was the lesser evil. Who would he rather face? A pissed off Gibbs, or a pissed off giant alien robot?

Expelling hot air from his vents again to calm his overwrought processor, Prime once again addressed Skids and Mudflap. "I have tried to be patient and understanding. I had hoped your arrival to Earth would be good for the two of you so that you may learn about the culture of others. I also foolishly thought you would benefit from time spent with Agent DiNozzo. I can see now how wrong I was. The error in judgment began with me, but has concluded with you. I wish I could help you grow as Autobots, but maybe it is not to be."

The twins exchanged worried glances. When Optimus dropped into monologue mode, it was either a very good sign, or a very bad one. There was no third direction. "Boss Bot, we're sorry! We thought it would be fun! We--"

"OUT! Now!" Optimus Prime's voice boomed through the smaller hanger and bounced off every available surface, the last of his patience finally snapping. "You are both to clean the energon processors immediately and you're not to stop until I tell you so. If you finish before I say stop, clean them again. And again. I'll come find you when I'm done taking care of business here. We'll discuss a suitable punishment then. Dismissed."

Skids and Mudflap grumbled unhappily as they made their way out the door. Prime could hear them clearly across the tarmac, still arguing over who was more at fault for the latest dressing down and subsequent punishment. Barely restraining the urge to pinch his noseplates again, Optimus leaned down to face Gibbs and Tony.

"Agent DiNozzo, what in the name of Primus compelled you to attempt car surfing with my twins?"

Tony's eyes bounced nervously, finally settling on Ziva. "Uh, the power of Christ?" he said with a bright smile.

Bumblebee synthesized a laugh, The Exorcist's famous line spilling from his speakers before he could stop it. _'The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!'_

Optimus grimaced, dental plates grinding behind his battle mask. "Bumblebee, would you like to join the twins? I'm certain they'd love the extra help."

The clip cut choppily off as 'Bee whizzed through his transformation sequence. The yellow Camaro spun a rubber-burning 180 and took off, claiming to have a date far off base with Sam and Mikaela.

Prime cycled his vents harshly once again and turned to face McGee. "Might we get down to business now?"

Tim hurried forward, his remote still in his hand. Stopping just long enough to shoot Tony a look of pure hatred for irritating not one, not two, but all three bosses, McGee finally began the debriefing.

"Okay, so here's what we know so far. Mitchell was a security fanatic and was probably obsessive compulsive, too" Tim said as he brought up various files to further back his point. Lists of lists popped up on the screen, all meticulously organized, color-coded and properly formatted. "He also had dirt on everyone, and I mean _everyone_. Up to and including the skipper."

"And if you think he was all OCD over his day to day life, his hard drive was beyond ridiculous," Glen added from his seat at the table.

Ziva tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"He was paranoid about his security, both online and in real life. It was more so online, but I have a feeling everything he did was secure." Maggie swiveled in her seat to face the group, bracelets jingling as she explained.

Gibbs grumbled again. "That why it took so long?"

McGee looked genuinely insulted for a brief moment. Remembering it was Gibbs and therefore like talking to one of the Geico Cavemen, the MIT graduate took a deep breath. "Well, yeah. The level of encryption Mitchell had was like nothing I've ever seen, okay? This laptop was more secure than Omaha Beach."

"But we got in there, McGee. Still think it took too long."

"Boss, I had an easier time hacking the CIA than this guy!" Tim blurted out before fully processing his words. Quickly backpedaling, he sputtered, "I mean, if I well, if I ever _did_ hack the CIA. Because I never did."

Ratchet nearly laughed out loud. McGee hacked the CIA. The medibot made a mental note to remember that one for the next Autobot – US Government budget meeting. Prime had only disallowed any _Autobot_ from forcibly hacking any US databank, government or otherwise. It didn't mean that someone _else_ couldn't do it on Ratchet's behalf. Ammo, in any form, was good to have. Focusing back on the conversation, Ratchet began listening in earnest.

"That is not the reason you brought us all down here, McGee. I am correct?" Ziva asked as she scanned the information on the screens.

Maggie scooted with her chair toward McGee. "Yeah. It took us all day to figure out why he had his hard drives partitioned the way he did, and then it took us even more time to figure out what the code in one of the drives meant."

McGee picked up right where she left off. "Mitchell had most of his personal journal written in this weird code. It was a bunch of numbers and letters that made no sense at all." McGee clicked a button and the first part of Mitchell's journal popped up on the screen. "We didn't understand what 2p7;13L5-29a31m61-11x2-11m13a7 meant and we all just stared at it."

"Until Maggie figured it out. See, she saw that the numbers were actually letters and the letters told us what to do with the numbers. We started plugging things in by trial and error. Eventually we figured out that the numbers represent the base of the code and that we were looking at things in too tangible of a way," Glen blabbered, stopping only to breathe and adjust his glasses.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and leaned over toward Prime, both leaders equally disinterested in the technobabble. "Yours go on like that too, huh?"

Optimus gave the Gunny a knowing look. "All day if I don't stop them."

Deciding he wanted the point sooner rather than later, Gibbs chose to interrupt McGee's endless geek speak. "McGee! What's the damn point?" Gibbs barked, causing both Glen and Maggie to jump in their chairs. The former Gunny was such a sharp contrast to the somewhat reserved and patient Optimus.

"I, well, it's just that we know what Mitchell was up to, and probably why he's dead," Tim stuttered.

"Shouldn't that have been the first thing you said?" Gibbs snapped in response. If he had a quarter for every time he said that to his team, his alimony payments to his three ex wives would be non-existent.

"Maybe. Do you still want to know what we found?"

"No, McGee. We don't. We're here for fun. Of course we do! Now spill it!" Gibbs yelled, shifting his coffee cup to his left hand.

McGee took a breath. "Okay. Mitchell was a typical computer geek. Lack of social skills, a bit of a loner, stuff like that."

"Sounds like you, McGee," DiNozzo threw across the room. Ziva balled up a wad of paper and tossed it with pinpoint accuracy at Tony's head. "Hey!"

"Shut it, Tony!" Ziva snapped.

"At least I can claim to have written and published a New York Times bestseller, DiNozzo. What can you claim? That you can bong a beer in under seven seconds?" McGee shot back. "Ooh. Fabulous!"

Gibbs, increasingly annoyed with his team's failing discipline, slammed a hand down on the table in front of him. "HEY! Focus! McGee, DiNozzo, do not make me slap you silly."

McGee cleared his throat, stealing a look at Tony. Both agents looked visibly contrite. Cracking his neck, Tim moved on. "Anyway, his journal was the one place he could freely talk without being judged. He was almost cocky there. Once we wrote a program to decode the journal, we found this." Tim said as Glen put up the most pertinent entry on the plasma. "Mitchell wanted fame more than fortune, and he thought if he could bring credibility to the theory of alien life on Earth, no one would be able to touch him. Theoretically, that is."

"God, McGeek, this guy really is more pathetic than you," DiNozzo added from his perch on the end of the table. McGee, choosing to verbally ignore his former boss, instead shot Tony a glare over his shoulder as he continued with his exposition.

"Mitchell wrote that he didn't ever believe what the _Stennis_ was carrying was experimental metal, so he used his power of 'persuasion' and blackmailed the MP in charge of the hold's security to let him nose around for a little while. He found this guy." McGee said as Glen clicked a picture up on the screen.

"Megatron," Prime whispered. Gibbs and Lennox both swallowed harshly.

"Oh, shit," Tony squeaked, remembering the name from the debriefing Lennox had conducted upon the NCIS agents' arrival. Even offline and surely not moving, the face of the Decepticon leader was still plenty intimidating. "_That's _Megatron? As in 'I-wanna-blow-up-the-world-and-make-all our-machines-my-personal-army' Megatron?"

Lennox nodded. "And he's a pain in the ass, too."

"Heard that," Epps seconded, having wandered in late to the briefing.

Ironhide flexed his fists, physically willing his cannons to remain off line. "Continue, Agent McGee."

"While he was nosing around, Mitchell wrote in his journal that he'd found a shard of something in the biggest robot's chest." Tim stopped long enough for Glen to retrieve and post the pictures of the shard, both from Mitchell's journal and the NCIS autopsy photos, on the screen. "He picked at it until it came loose, and took it with him as his proof. He thought no one would believe his pictures, but the shard was so alien, it might just make people believe. Once it started making things do weird stuff, he knew he'd hit the jackpot. He also realized he had to get the shard off the ship."

"And how did he manage that?" Lennox asked for the group and himself.

Glen put another set of pictures up on the screen as McGee continued to speak. "The _Stennis_ group's main deployment was as support to the _Eisenhower_ and the Fifth Fleet in the Persian Gulf. She departed for the Gulf in late January of this year with a side mission to the Laurentian Abyss. She made port in early February in England, and was there for a three-day liberty before joining the _Eisenhower_ on 19 February. Mitchell mailed the shard home to himself from England, and it sat in a PO box until he was back stateside."

"Which wasn't until last week," DiNozzo added.

"Mitchell managed to get himself in a lot of trouble in only the week he was home. How?" Ziva asked, tapping a pen on her chin thoughtfully.

Maggie jumped in. "That was part of his journal, too. During the cruise, Mitchell was in an out of contact with an unnamed man who was quite intent on purchasing the shard. They had regular correspondence right up until Mitchell's tour ended."

"Agent McGee, who initiated the contact?" Optimus asked, shifting his position ever so slightly to ease a cramp in his stabilizing servo. The Boss Bot had a bad feeling about where this discovery could potentially head.

"The unknown buyer solicited Mitchell for the information. Mitchell never said how the guy knew what he had or if he could even figure it out. From all his notes though, Mitchell thought the guy was legit."

"Now wait. That doesn't sound right." Lennox's statement was met with nods from Prime, Ironhide and Ratchet.

"I agree, Captain Lennox. Caution may be the wisest choice of action here," Optimus said in response.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. We're just telling you what we found," Glen responded.

Quietly listening and taking in all the information, Gibbs looked toward McGee. "Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah. One big question mark, boss. We don't really know who this guy is because even Mitchell's decoded notes were somewhat encrypted," McGee started. Gibbs leveled the tech geek with an exasperated glare.

"Make sense, McGee!"

Tim babbled again. "Uh, right. What I meant to say was that Mitchell never named names in anything he wrote. All we were able to figure out so far is that there's a meet between these two guys set for tomorrow, about an hour's drive from here. I even have exact latitude and longitude, up to the minute and second."

Gibbs nodded and turned toward Optimus. "We have to keep that meeting. This guy, whoever he is, is the only link we have to Mitchell and why he's dead."

"That would be a great idea, but seeing as how Mitchell is _dead_, I'd like to know how you plan on accomplishing that," Ironhide grumbled from the side of the room.

Gibbs turned toward the computer geeks. "McGee, are you sure these guys never met face to face? Exchanged pictures? Anything?"

"That's the one thing I'm a hundred percent sure on, boss. Mitchell recorded everything in this journal of his, and there's no record of him ever meeting this guy in any other capacity than by email."

"Good."

"What are you thinking, Gibbs?" Prime asked, still kneeling at the human's level.

Gibbs smirked. "We're going to send in McGee instead."

Tony's jaw dropped in shock. "McGee? Why him, boss?" Turning toward Tim, DiNozzo added, "No offense, Probie."

"DiNozzo, unless you understand all this computer mumbo jumbo enough to fake being Mitchell, McGee is the one I want." The expression on Gibbs' face left no room for discussion.

Tony tipped his head to the side. "McGee it is."

Ziva gave Tim a small smile. "Do not worry, McGee. I am certain you'll be just fine."

Tim looked around frantically, Ziva's kind words of encouragement having little effect. "Me? Me, boss? Are--are you sure?"

Gibbs walked up to be face to face with his young agent. "Well, yeah McGee. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have said it. Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

McGee shook his head ferociously from side to side. "No problem. We're good."

From across the room, Ratchet made his opinion known once again. "Ah, yes. I have a problem."

"I should have figured." Gibbs' voice practically oozed unrepentant contempt. "What is it this time, Ratchet?"

"Your whole 'plan', and I use that term loosely, stems on whoever this person is believing that Tim is your Petty Officer Mitchell. What if he doesn't? Or what if this turns out to be nothing but a robbery? What will you do then? Start shooting?"

"Hey, our intentions here are to arrest the guy and find out what he knows. We're in the business of convicting dirty murderers, not being murderers ourselves," DiNozzo countered, clearly offended by Ratchet's verbal implication.

Nonplussed by the aloof NCIS agent's unusually harsh words, Ratchet continued. "I still haven't finished my work with the shards we have. We don't know who this buyer is. For all you know, he's a Decepticon. Face it DiNozzo. We don't have enough information to go off half cocked."

Optimus' vents hissed while he stood upright. "Gibbs, Ratchet is right. You will need a contingency plan if things go wrong. My hope is that you're right, that this is nothing more than a business transaction. But with at least two Decepticons still unaccounted for, it would be irresponsible to let you assume otherwise."

"What are you suggesting?" Gibbs asked after a brief moment of consideration.

"I propose a compromise." Optimus tilted his head in Gibbs' direction. "I suggest you go with your original course of action and let Tim proceed with the meet as Mitchell. You can station your team close to him to give cover. We will hold short near you to provide assistance should anything go wrong."

"I think that would work, but do you really think this is a Decepticon setup?" Gibbs queried.

"I don't know. As I said, I hope not, but I cannot permit you to take any foolish risks."

"Don't think we can take care of ourselves, Prime?" Gibbs challenged.

"Quite to the contrary," the massive Autobot replied. "I have every belief you are capable fighters. My point is that you should not have to be, at least not on our behalf. This is our war, one we brought to your world. The least we can do is provide support."

Gibbs smirked. "I was yanking your chain, Optimus."

His optics showing his surprise, Prime tried to cover his rapidly increasing embarrassment. "Right." Cracking his neck wiring in a most human gesture, Optimus tried to get the briefing back on track. "Captain Lennox, Special Agent Gibbs, how do you suggest we handle this situation?"

Gibbs exchanged glances with Lennox. "We all in?" Both Lennox and Prime nodded. "All right."

"Glen, could you put up a topographical map of the meeting area please?" Prime asked as he walked over toward the computer screens.

Pushing his bottle cap glasses up his nose for the umpteenth time, Glen said, "Sure Optimus. Hold on." Grabbing the coordinates from McGee, Glen typed quickly.

The map popped up on the screen, the new source of information attracting the three leaders like flies on honey. Quickly studying it, Lennox's special ops mind began to formulate a plan of attack. "This has got to be a small operation. Two, maybe three man teams at most, and no more than two teams total."

Gibbs gave a curt bob of his head. "I agree. Anything more than that, we risk spooking this buyer more than he already is." Settling his hands on his hips, Gibbs studied the topographical map Glen had pulled up in earnest. "The meeting is taking place here," the Gunny said, pointing to the eastern side of Nesbitt Lake in a remote part of the Nevada desert.

"Right. There are several ridges that will give enough cover to my team and me, and we'll also be able to see McGee from there. The Autobots are going to need more than that," Lennox thought out loud.

Gibbs pointed to the map again, one hand still on his hip. "Well what about that big valley to the east? It's only about a mile away, and the elevation should hide them, even someone as big as Optimus."

Optimus shook his head in agreement. "That looks fine, Special Agent Gibbs."

"Gibbs, I'll be taking Epps along for the ride."

"Fine," came the one word response from the Gunny.

"Okay. Then we'll go one human team and one Autobot team. Humans will be stationed just south of the meeting location. We need to be within visual distance in case McGee needs us. That means 100 yards or less. Autobots, make sure you're within one mile. I need you to be able to cover ground in a hurry if the shit hits the fan. Prime, who are you taking?" Lennox asked, his military leadership clearly evident in how he handled pre planning.

Turning to Lennox, Optimus addressed the human military commander. "Captain Lennox, I concur with you suggestion of small teams. Would Ironhide and myself be acceptable?"

Lennox gave Optimus a look clearly saying, 'Well slag for a processor, what do you think I'd say?' Verbally, the young Captain replied, "Yes, Prime. That would be fine. Gibbs, are you okay with that?"

"Works for me."

"All right. McGee, make sure you get everyone a copy of Mitchell's journal and anything else you find pertinent. We need any and all intel we can get before tomorrow."

"You got it, Captain Lennox." McGee's fingers furiously flew over the keyboards as pages of documents spit out from the printer.

"Anyone have anything else?" Lennox asked as he handed out the copies given to him by McGee and Glen.

From across the room, Ratchet's deep voice penetrated the hanger. "I'm coming with you."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Why?"

Ratchet locked optics with Gibbs. "Because I have a feeling that Mitchell's death wasn't just the shard reacting to something around it. He had help dying, so just deal with it."

"Fine. Just be discreet, Ratchet." Trying his best to ignore the obvious tension between Ratchet and Gibbs, Lennox finished, "Radios and comms for everyone. Autobots need to mask their signatures as much as possible in case this is a Decepticon trap. We don't want to give ourselves away if we don't need to." Various nods met his eyes. "Make sure you read over all the information you were just given. It might just save your ass tomorrow."

Gibbs walked over to where McGee had seated himself to reassure his probie he'd not just been fed to the wolves. "McGee, just learn as much as you can about Mitchell, like how he talks and how acts. You can probably do that from his writing, right?" Tim nodded. "Okay. Just relax. We're going to be near you and you'll have us all in your ear."

Tim swallowed nervously. "Go- Got it, boss."

Gibbs laid a hand firmly on McGee's shoulder and spoke quietly. "Breathe, Tim. You'll do just fine."

"Yeah. Fine." McGee blew out an extra large breath. He wasn't a new recruit straight out of college any more. He had been in tight spots before and had passed with flying colors. There was no reason to believe any differently on this mission, and that's what McGee was telling himself. Looking Gibbs in the eye, McGee was confident. "I'm good. We're prepared. We have a plan, and three huge Autobots as backup."

Gibbs' face showed surprised satisfaction. "Good."

DiNozzo butted in. "Uh, boss? Where are we in all this?"

"I haven't decided yet, DiNozzo."

Knowing he had more vital information, Tim called over the din of the suddenly alive hanger. "Uh, guys? Guys! There's something else you should probably know. Guys? Guys!" Getting no response, McGee let out a shrill whistle. The group stopped and resettled, waiting for McGee to speak. "I don't think Mitchell's shard was the only one in existence. There was possibly one more, and Mitchell has also been in contact with the guy who apparently has it."

"Go on, Agent McGee," Optimus said, the lump in his fuel pump growing bigger by the moment. Silence reigned throughout the hanger.

"I haven't been able to figure out who this third person is yet, but he's definitely an additional shard owner. He's also not the guy Mitchell was supposed to meet tomorrow. I wish I had more than that, but I don't."

"DiNozzo, David, now you two have a job. Get on that third person and don't stop until you figure out who the hell he is. We're going to need that information. Let me know when you have something." Gibbs delegated before walking briskly toward the door. His voice floated backwards. "That's good work, McGee."

* * *

"Tell me _why_ exactly you're here again, Ratchet? To piss me off?" Gibbs asked, clearly annoyed by the medic's presence. Stepping out of Optimus' alt mode and dressed in desert BDUs, Gibbs fixed the Autobot CMO with a glare normally reserved for only DiNozzo or Fornell.

Completely undaunted by the expression of seething hatred emanating from the Gunny, Ratchet responded just as coyly, "I'm here because I'm a glitching idiot. If I'm right and this is one of our missing enemies, even _you_ don't deserve the fate of death by Decepticon. If Mitchell put all that information in a journal, we must assume the Decepticons know what we do. You need to be prepared for that."

"That's not a reason why you're necessary in this package."

"Please, you two. That's quite enough. We have very little time before this meeting is schedule to begin," Optimus interrupted, once again playing referee between his medic and NCIS agent. "Take your positions."

Both Ratchet and Gibbs grumbled their unhappy acquiescence and took up their assigned duties. At the final debriefing earlier that morning, it had only been Ironhide's intimidating twin cannons that had successfully negotiated the temporary cease-fire between NCIS agent and Autobot medic. Optimus was thankful his newest headaches had managed to see sense, even if he still felt guilty over allowing Ironhide to threaten the two to achieve it. Willing his processor to not allow him to dwell on the multitude of personality conflicts his base housed, Prime drove in tandem with Ratchet and Ironhide to the valley east of Nesbitt Lake.

"Okay. Comm check, everyone. I need to hear you." Lennox's crisp voice came through the ear wigs and comm systems of each individual. "McGee, you on and in position?"

Tim, dressed in matching desert BDUs answered Lennoix. "Yeah, I'm here. No sign of anyone yet."

"Fine. Let's hear the rest of you." Lennox said.

"Gibbs checking in," the Gunny affirmed, laying in prone position with his simply unorthodox sniper rifle at the ready. Epps had handed him the modified firearm from the NEST armory before the group departed, and Gibbs had accepted the strange looking gun with a raised eyebrow and nod. A scoped .308 with a built in sabot round launcher. Gibbs didn't even _want_ to know.

"Epps here."

"Optimus ready and in position."

"Ironhide here," came the gruff reply.

"Ratchet ready." The cranky medic added one more thing while he had time. "I took the liberty of rigging up a new pulse ray last night. It should detect any type of Cybertronian signal. If this is a Decepticon, we'll know right away."

Gibbs lifted his eyebrows. Even though the Autobot medic was a monumental pain in the ass, the Gunny had to admit he was very prepared.

"All right. Let's get to it," Epps drawled, his love for his job evident in his voice.

Gibbs saw a reflection of light through his scope. Pressing the transmit button on his comm, he alerted the rest of the team. "We've got movement. North side." Though he was there to provide immediate cover for McGee, the scope allowed Gibbs to clearly see the events of the meeting. Because of that fact, it was decided that Gibbs would call it out. "One car approaching. Black 2007 Dodge Charger, no markings or visible license plate."

McGee took a deep breath and tried to channel his inner Mitchell. '_Be DiNozzo. Be DiNozzo. Cool. Calm. I got this.'_ Striding up to the car, Tim waited for the driver to cut the engine before approaching. "Didn't think you'd show. I was about to leave."

The unknown man exited his vehicle. McGee barely concealed his surprise at the man's choice of clothing. It looked like the guy was trying to imitate Johnny Cash, dressed in black from head to toe. The second thing McGee realized was that, whoever this guy was, he was obviously not from the desert. Black jeans, cowboy boots, turtleneck and sport coat would not have been the most comfortable thing to wear in 110 degree heat. Curious indeed.

"I'm glad you didn't leave. I would have been upset. You got what I want?"

"Depends." McGee raised an eyebrow, trying to appear nonchalant. "Be nice if I got a name first."

"Names are extraneous. I want the shard." The reply was devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

Tim shook his head to the negative, feeling more confident with each passing minute. "I don't think so. No name, no shard."

The man in black scowled, clearly not thrilled with McGee. "Fine. Clayton Davis."

Tim smiled, mentally shaking any negative feelings he had about his mission. "See? That wasn't so hard. Nice to meet you, Clayton. Petty Officer Jonathan Mitchell, USN." McGee extended his hand for a handshake.

Eyeing the NCIS agent's hand warily, Davis said, "I don't shake hands."

McGee pulled his hand back and raised both in a placating gesture. "Fine. If that's how you want it, let's get down to business."

"Yes. Let's."

Just south of McGee's position, Ratchet was busy running his scan. Sending the pulse, the information pinged back to him. The medic worked feverishly to decoding what information the scan brought. Reading the data, Ratchet froze. He resent the signal and reread the data. Suddenly glad he'd come on this particular mission to do more than piss off Gibbs, the medic opened his channel to the group.

"Prime, we got a big problem."

"Go ahead, Ratchet," Optimus responded, well aware that every member of the team could hear him.

"Whatever name that guy gave McGee is a load of slag."

"And why's that, Hatchet?" Ironhide's unmistakable voice cut into the conversation.

"Because that's Barricade. I've confirmed it twice."

Lennox nearly yelled, then remembered to keep his voice down to maintain the secrecy of his presence. "What? That fucking police car that tried to kill Sam?"

"That's the one," Ratchet answered. "It appears he's changed his alt mode to a Charger from the Mustang. Must have been too recognizable."

Though he heard the entire conversation in his ear, there was nothing McGee could say. Trying not to outwardly show his dread was a tall order for an agent such as McGee. He wasn't like DiNozzo, the natural undercover agent who could keep his cool through virtually any situation. Tim felt the panic start to rise in his chest. Desperately wanting answers to the thousands of questions sprinting through his head and nearly breaking cover to do it, Ratchet mercifully beat him to the punch.

"Special Agent McGee, I need you to listen carefully. The man you're talking to is not a man at all. It is a Decepticon, designation Barricade, and what you're talking to is a very realistic hologram. Like us, his real form is in his car. He is a scout and infiltrator, similar to Bumblebee. But unlike 'Bee, he is ruthless, so please tread carefully."

Optimus broke his radio silence. "Autobots, creep as far forward to McGee's position as you can without being seen. Continue to mask signals."

Lifting his head up and forcing himself to be calm, McGee looked Davis in the eye. "You bring the money?"

"Depends," Davis replied, mimicking McGee's earlier answer. "You bring the shard?"

Tim patted his shirt pocket and gave a cocky little grin. "Right here." Pulling out a key instead of the expected shard, Davis was incensed.

"What is this? You were supposed to bring the shard, not some random key! How am I supposed to know what's for?"

"The shard's in a locker, Davis. You'll just have to trust my word on this one. When I get my money, you get your shard." When Davis went to reach for the key, McGee slapped his hand away. "Ah! Money first. Let's see it."

Davis' lip curled upwards in a sneer momentarily before he spun on his heel. Walking back to his "car", he popped the trunk and pulled out a silver briefcase. Setting it on the hood, Davis flipped the latches and opened the case. "There. Satisfied. Five hundred thousand dollars, non-sequential unmarked bills. Hand it over."

Tim inspected the case, looking for any indication of tampering on the Decepticon's part. "Looks kosher enough."

"Do we have a deal?" Davis asked, checking his outlandishly expenseive watch and looking bored.

"I think we can make this work." McGee handed the key Davis and took the case of money, still desperately trying to stem the myriad of emotions swimming through him. Smiling, he said, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Bar-- I mean Davis."

Davis' eyes went wide and then narrowed suspiciously. "What did you just say?"

"Fuck! McGee's been made! Move in! Move _in_!" Gibbs screamed over the comm, hefting his gun and starting to run toward Tim's position.

Barricade's Johnny Cash holoform zapped out of existence, and his Dodge Charger form began to spin and whir as the Decepticon's transformation sequence completed. McGee dropped the briefcase of money in abject terror as two piercing crimson colored optics bore into him. Finding himself subject to the same interrogation Sam endured six months previous, McGee prayed to every god he could think of the Autobots and Lennox were rolling in. "Fleshling, how did you know me? _How did you know my designation_?!"

Tim closed his eyes. This was it. This was how he was going to die. McGee distractedly wondered how NCIS would cover up the truth behind his death. 'Killed by Decepticon' was not something that could be printed in the NCIS newsletter. "I, uh, um."

McGee was saved from having to answer by the sound of squealing tires, Ironhide's Topkick form rounding the bend near the mouth of the valley at breakneck speed. Kicking up dirt in every direction, the hulking weapons specialist transformed on the move. Ironhide hollered through the comm, "McGee, get your aft down!"

It was all the warning Tim had before two missiles came screaming from each of Ironhide's arm cannons, their smoke trail visible in their wake. Both went whizzing past McGee's head and hit solidly into the chest of the startled Decepticon. Tim ducked, covered and scrambled backwards toward a solid outcropping of rock. A hand came down and grabbed him on the shoulder, pulling him backwards. McGee fought and struggled until he saw the clear blue eyes of Gibbs staring back at him. Standing up and running, both he and Gibbs dove over an embankment to the relative safety behind.

"McGee! You hit?"

Tim checked himself over as Gibbs looked for himself. "No, Boss. I'm good."

Optimus and Ratchet came in hot, flying past Gibbs and McGee's position in an impressive feat of speed and agility for two vehicles the size of the Autobot leader and his medic. Lennox and Epps were both hanging off each side of the flamed Peterbilt, eyes focused on their mission. The two human soldiers rolled off Prime before he stopped as they approached Ironhide's position.

Finding their feet, both NEST operatives trained their weapons on the Dodge Charger. Once Epps and Lennox were clear, Optimus and Ratchet initiated their own transformation sequences, Ratchet engaging his buzz saws and Optimus sliding his favorite energon blade out of his left wrist. Barricade was still struggling to regain his footing after two direct hits from Barrett and Stinger. Ironhide sauntered up, his babies still trained on the downed enemy.

"Punk ass Decepticon."

"Pathetic Autobot," Barricade spat back, contempt clear in his optics. "I should have known this was going to be a trap."

Ironhide scoffed. "Don't blame us. We didn't know you were coming. This is just good luck."

"Good luck? I would never believe a word from you. Why don't you just shoot me now and get it over with. You've been wanting to do it for so long, Ironhide," Barricade taunted, finally finding his equilibrium.

Ironhide powered his cannons again, their whine matching his purr of satisfaction. Retracting his blade, Optimus stepped forward and put one hand across his longtime friend's thick arms. In a calm but firm voice, Optimus spoke three words. "Ironhide, stand down."

"What? Prime?" Ironhide said incredulously, his eyes never leaving his target.

"You heard me. Stand down. That's an order. Barricade has done nothing to us or to our human friends. We have no right to engage him." Though it pained Optimus to say it, it was the truth. The Decepticon hadn't fired a shot, though Ironhide hadn't given him the chance. The Autobots had no justifiable reason to do any more damage to Barricade what was already done.

Ironhide reluctantly agreed and the humans let out a breath none of them realized they were holding. Gibbs and McGee squinted up toward the sky as the sound of a jet engine nibbled at their ears.

"Wow. They're really off course today. Guess that's the Zoomies for you," Gibbs observed, the jet on the horizon still just as spec to the humans' vision. Epps cocked his head to the side in silent challenge. "What do you want me to say, Epps? The Tonapah Test Range is _miles_ from here."

"And I thought we weren't supposed to expect air support. Isn't that what the Air Force said?" McGee said, looking up to see a lone F-22 Raptor soar overhead. "Though I guess late is better than never."

Lennox craned his neck upward toward the departing jet, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "Oh, shit. That's not the Air Force."

"Then what the hell is it?"

Ironhide yelled, "It's Starscream!"

Grabbing his weapon, Lennox made a mad dash to the relative safety of the dunes near the lake. "Everybody get your asses down! We've got incoming!"

* * *

**Next Up**: NCIS locates the other shard owner, and Optimus and Ratchet have a come to Primus moment. Gibbs does what he does best: interferes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**: I do sincerely apologize to everyone for the wait on this chapter. My muse kind of took leave of me and went with some crackish good times instead. So, thank you to all of you for being patient. I think we have one good sized chapter to go after this and then the epilogue, so thank to everyone who's been reading, reviewing and commenting. I appreciate it muchly!

I wanted to say here that I put the location of Diego Garcia somewhere in central Nevada, so to all the people saying I've got it wrong: **I KNOW**. I had to do this for both the story's continuity and because I didn't know where the base really was when started this fic. In any case, I figured NEST's location was a minor detail to have to change in the grand scheme of things. Also, I guess this chapter was my attempt at trying to explain why Barricade wasn't in Revenge of the Fallen. I'm also paying homage to one of my other favorite Michael Bay movies, Bad Boys II in this chapter. Hopefully someone can find the nod.

**Disclaimer**: Характеры в этом рассказе не принадлежат к мне. Было написано для потехи, и никакой профит не делается. Пожалуйста отсутствие тяжб. I'm sure Optimus could tell you what it says. The dude probably speaks every language known to man. Basically, I don't own, so please don't sue.

* * *

Chapter 10

Nesbitt Lake, about 70 miles from Diego Garcia

It was an age-old battlefield tactic for a rifleman or a sniper: start by taking out the officers and work downwards in rank. Kill the heart and the brain, kill the beast. Demoralize the enemy. Confuse them. It made for easier hunting. It was Starscream's personal strategy.

It was also an excruciatingly cowardly act.

Optimus gritted his dental plates under his battle mask as his targeting systems locked on to the incoming pain in the ass seeker. Hearing Ironhide's cannons power up to his left, he felt a slight bit of comfort knowing 'Hide was doing the same. Ratchet had, under Prime's orders, non-lethally incapacitated Barricade by disabling his motor servos to keep the Charger from getting any bright ideas.

"Lennox, Epps, Gibbs, McGee, take cover now!" Optimus shouted, waving a large hand backwards. Starscream released a volley of missiles not completely dissimilar to the ones Ironhide fired, though the seeker's set came packed quite a bit more in the lethal punch category.

Gibbs, Lennox and Epps rolled safely away as the three Autobots returned fire. McGee, still shaken from being nearly decapitated by Barricade, was slow to react. Prime had to make a quick decision. Continue firing alongside Ironhide, or protect McGee. Judging the trajectory of one of the incoming missiles and analyzing McGee's exposed position in a split second, Optimus chose the latter. The Autobot leader quickly holstered his gigantic rifle and threw himself sideways in front of the surprised NCIS agent. A millisecond later, one of Starscream's missiles bounced off a rock and exploded directly into Prime's chestplates.

Tim shielded his eyes with his arm, still rolling toward the outcropping of rocks he belatedly started for when he heard Lennox's yell. He turned his head to the left in time to see a blur of silver, red and blue fly in front of him and then white light. Dirt and debris rained down on his head, pelting his body and legs. McGee curled in on himself as much as his flexibility allowed and covered his head with his arms. His head and ears still ringing from shell shock, Tim peered up to see Optimus rolling gracefully to his feet, patting out a small fire on his chest, and pulling his rifle out from behind his back to return fire. Though McGee knew it would absolutely no good, he unholstered his Sig and started shooting fast and hard. It made him feel better to be proactive, even if the bullets would never reach their intended target.

The slide to McGee's gun locked back, signaling that he was empty. "Boss, I'm going to go ahead and add that stupid jet to the reasons of why I hate the Air Force!" McGee dropped his Sig 229's empty magazine to the ground and slammed in the last of three fully loaded mags he carried, his finger hitting the slide release to chamber a round.

"Hey! That ain't cool. What'd we ever do to you?" Epps retorted as he dove for cover next to Gibbs. "And I thought you said you never in the military!"

"I joined when I met Gibbs!" McGee yelled back, echoing something DiNozzo had said a couple of years previous as he took aim at Starscream.

Lennox and Gibbs exchanged looks. "Would you two shut up and start shooting? Talk with your trigger finger!" Gibbs hollered over his shoulder. The aftermath from Starscream's first salvo of gun and missile fire had quieted, dust still swirling over the lake. The Decepticon seeker executed a perfect Immelmann turn, going from level flight to pitching vertical and then back to horizontal. Three sets of optics and four sets of eyes followed the F-22's every move.

Starscream circled ominously overhead, his weapons systems silent for the moment. Ironhide skidded to a halt next to Barricade, both cannons now aimed at the downed Decepticon's spark chamber. The Topkick roughly shoved Stinger into Barricade's face. "What does he want?"

Barricade's expression was one of hatred. "What does who want?"

"You know what I mean. Starscream."

Shrugging, the Charger returned Ironhide's glare. "Do you really think I'd tell you?"

Ironhide growled. "If you want to keep your chest free of holes, you will. Talk, Deceptiscum!"

"I don't have any reason to tell you."

Optimus took a knee near Barricade's position. "Barricade, it would be in your best interest to tell us what you know."

Barricade rolled his optics. "My best interest! When has an _Autobot_," the word was practically sneered, "ever had my best interest in mind?"

Optimus was quick with his response. "Since this moment. Barricade, as of now you have nothing to fear from us. You have yet to break any laws or treaties, and once Starscream is clear of the area, you are free to go."

"Should have deactivated his voice thingy, too," Gibbs muttered from his position on the outcropping of recently rearranged rocks, courtesy of Starscream's missile.

"Special Agent Gibbs, thank you," Prime admonished, whipping his torso around to face Gibbs. Instead of the firm expression of a commander, Optimus found himself suppressing a grimace as something in his abdominal region stretched and protested.

Ratchet eyed the big leader warily. The medic in him noticed the slight pinch of pain in Prime's optic ridges and lightly staccato movement. Flicking his optics back toward the sky, Ratchet focused on the more immediate concern.

Barricade's gaze shifted between the three Autobots and four humans, his optics blazing to bright red. He barked a short laugh. "You want to know what Starscream wants? He wants me. Offline. As a vacuum cleaner."

"How can you be certain?" Optimus asked.

"Idiotic Autobot. I'd like to know how you got this far as a commander, asking stupid questions like that. Been taking lessons from Megatron, I see." When Prime's gaze didn't waver, Barricade continued his condescension. "Didn't you notice he was shooting at me, or do your optics need as much recalibration as your logic circuits?"

Prime expertly ignored the insult. After listening to Megatron's blather for nine million years, there literally wasn't a name in the universe Optimus hadn't heard or been called. And as his battle computer replayed Starscream's first salvo, Prime had to admit Barricade was right. The missile he blocked wasn't headed directly for McGee. It was headed toward Barricade, and Tim just happened to be in the way.

Barricade saw the recognition flow through Prime's azure optics. Smiling manically, he said, "He's not here for you. I'm in his way of total domination. He's waiting to finish me. And as soon as you leave, that's what he's going to do."

"Can't say I blame him," Ironhide grumbled.

"Ironhide," Prime scolded. "What else? Did he know why you were meeting here today?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Now leave."

Craning his neck back around, Optimus observed the seeker. True, he had not deviated from his holding pattern in the air. The NEST team was completely exposed and couldn't move as fast as a seeker could compensate. Forcing back the grunt of pain, Optimus regained his feet. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a high probability that Starscream's missile found a seam in his armor.

"Ratchet, reactive his servos and weapons."

The medic stopped short. "What? Optimus, you can't be serious."

"I am. Do it."

Lennox and Ironhide exchanged confused glances. "Optimus, what are you doing? He's a Decepticon! He'll kill us the moment he has the chance!" Ironhide implored his leader.

Prime shook his head. "No, he won't. Ratchet, enable his systems. That's an order."

The yellow medic slowly dropped to one knee and let his tools drop from the sheathings in his hands. Beginning to work, Ratchet growled. "All right. But Primus help you if you're wrong because if you are, Barricade better kill you first. If he doesn't, I'll offline you myself!"

"Duly noted, Ratchet."

Finished with his work, the Autobot medic stood back before completing the final step to bring all of Barricade's systems back on line.

"Ironhide, take our human charges away from this immediate area. I will stay to cover Ratchet and we will rendezvous with you at the staging area," Optimus ordered calmly.

"Done. Come on, squishies. Let's go." Folding himself down, Lennox and Epps hopped in Ironhide's cab while Gibbs and McGee hauled themselves into the Topkick's flatbed. The four nodded to the two Autobots as Ironhide spun his tires, fishtailing in the dirt. Once Prime was satisfied the humans were safe, he nodded his head once to Ratchet.

"Here we go." Ratchet cycled his vents and pressed the last line in place. Barricade's systems whirled, fluids and signals reestablishing themselves where there was previously no feeling. Ratchet readied his buzzsaws with a quick flick of his wrists, his tools disappearing into their ports. Optimus waited, his weapons systems inactive.

Instead of the ambush the medic had expected, Barricade regained his feet and gave a simple bob of his chin. He turned his back to both Autobots, slowly transformed, and drove northeast, away from the NEST group. Ratchet retracted his saws and stared incredulously at Optimus. "What just happened?"

"It appears Barricade's fate was written for him long before he landed on this planet." Glancing quickly up toward the heavens where Starscream still circled, Optimus dropped into his alt mode. :Let's go, Ratchet. Ironhide is waiting.:

Ironhide stood nervously on the southwest edge of Nesbitt Lake, his optics scanning the distance for Ratchet and Prime. His comm was open to all channels in case of a distress call, and his audios were set up to high to detect any sounds of fighting. Seeing a cloud of dust billowing in the distance, Ironhide commed his leader.

:Optimus? Barricade didn't try and get fresh with you, did he?:

:No Ironhide. Barricade chose to leave with no resistance. I don't think he will be a problem in the near future.:

The semi and Hummer both pulled up to the staging area and transformed, none of the other beings taking notice of Prime's suddenly morose mood. "Does someone want to tell me what the frag just happened?" Ironhide, in his usual gruff fashion, dispensed with any kind of greeting and went straight to the point.

Ratchet was still dumbfounded. "He just left. Barricade stood up, transformed and simply left. I don't get it."

"Back to base. Autobots, roll out." Optimus transformed and drove slowly around the shores of the lake. As his tires scraped the pavement, Optimus forced himself to not take one final look back in the direction of Barricade's last known position. Starscream had circled down while the Boss Bot was running through his transformation sequence, and had landed to their north. The Autobots drove away, beginning the trek back to the relative safety of Diego Garcia. In the distance, a thunderous explosion of high-powered missiles rocked the calm of the desert.

'_Be with Primus, Barricade,'_ Prime thought softly to himself. A second later, Optimus' scanners detected Starscream delivering the kill shot, silence coating the landscape seconds after.

* * *

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

Staring at a computer screen for hours out of her day was not exactly Ziva's idea of fun. But, since Gibbs took McGee as Mitchell's stand in, the Mossad officer had no choice but to suck it up and deal with DiNozzo and Glen. And, because Tony was Tony, he managed to forge an instant bond Glen and Maggie, leaving his less social partner somewhat out of the loop. Glen and Tony had spent the morning alternating between working and quoting movies. But, and she was loath to admit it, Tony, Glen and Maggie were very good at their jobs.

Hearing Tony and Glen start in on the 'Meow' bit from Super Troopers, Ziva set the folder she was working down and braced her hands on the desk in front of her. Taking a deep, calming breath, she tried to keep the train, otherwise known as DiNozzo and Glen, from a painful, fiery derailment. "Gentlemen. Can we get back to the task at hand?"

Sobering, both DiNozzo and Glen shook their heads and tried to put on serious faces. Glen squinted at the screen, refocusing on picking though the mystery shard owner's emails. "Yeah, right Ziva. Sorry."

"What do we know so far?" Ziva stood up to pace as she talked, taking the lead Gibbs normally would.

"That's a good question, Officer David," Gibbs answered from behind her position, one of his desert camo clad legs hanging over Ironhide's tailgate. The Gunny hopped down before the Topkick was fully stopped, earning a glare from Ratchet once the Hummer had fully transformed. Having dropped Epps off at the human quarters, Gibbs, Lennox and McGee began to break down store the gear they had used at Nesbitt Lake.

Tony didn't miss a beat. "Oh, hey Boss."

Ziva took a moment to analyze the physical condition of the special ops team before they all departed. No one sported any broken bones or abnormally large cuts and abrasions, and everyone was upright and functional. Changing the subject, she asked, "How did it go?"

"It went," Ironhide responded in his usual two-word fashion, taking apart his cannons and beginning to give them a thorough cleaning. "Mitchell's contact turned out to be a Decepticon."

"A Decepticon? That was rather unexpected, yes?" Ziva replied.

"Yep. Just about as unexpected as a second Decepticon almost shooting McGee's head off," Gibbs quipped from his position at the table.

Ziva's jaw dropped. "What the hell happened out there, Gibbs?"

"Ratchet's suspicions were correct, Officer David. The man Mitchell was meeting wasn't really a man at all, but a Decepticon infiltrator named Barricade. A second Decepticon, designation Starscream, ambushed us all. I'm still uncertain as to why," Prime said as he stepped back into the Ops area.

"Wait. Back up. What exactly happened to McGee?" DiNozzo asked with a note of anger in his voice. No one but Tony DiNozzo was allowed to threaten the probie and live to tell the tale!

"Just what Optimus said, Tony. Barricade was Mitchell's contact, and the thing tried to kill me! Then this jet showed up, and everyone started shooting. It was crazy," McGee said, blowing out a puff of air.

"And what did my favorite probie do?" Tony asked, pumping his fist in anticipation. He knew McGee was a well-trained federal agent, but he still couldn't pass up the opportunity for a little ribbing when the chance presented itself.

As a nonverbal answer, McGee unholstered his service weapon, cleared it, and tossed the Sig on the table along with the three magazines he managed to empty. "Just emptied all my mags, that's all."

DiNozzo smiled widely and barked a long, loud and satisfied laugh. "McGee, all that time on the range with yours truly finally paid off."

"Don't pat yourself on the back too much, DiNozzo. That's the guy that saved my ass." McGee pointed with one finger toward Optimus, the boss busy analyzing the data collected from the most recent Decepticon encounter.

"Well, how'd he do that?"

Ratchet cut into the NCIS conversation, incredulity glazing his words. "The idiot jumped in front of a missile from Starscream."

Tony scrunched up his face in surprise. "A missile?"

"Yeah. What everyone is forgetting to mention is that Starscream's alt mode is an F-22 Raptor." McGee finally acknowledged.

"A…What?" Tony paled visibly. "Holy shit, McGee. That's…that's. Wow! Looks like you done good this time, McGeek."

Tim sighed. "Tony, I'm right here and I'm fine. Things just got a little hinky, that's all. You'll be back to annoying me in no time, so don't get too touchy feely. It's weird."

"Now that you've heard all the gory details of our afternoon, you two had better have something for me," Gibbs interrupted, running the bore snake through the barrel of the rifle.

"Oh, we've got plenty of that, Special Agent Gibbs." Maggie pulled the pencil out of her hair and grabbed the stack of paper sitting on the nearby desk.

"Maggie and Glen--" DiNozzo paused briefly at the impatient expression tugging at Gibbs' eyes and decided to speed it up. "Ah, blah, blah, geek stuff, blah, blah, we finally managed to figure out who the other shard owner is," Tony chuckled as Maggie put some information up on the screens above.

Looking at the screen, Gibbs squinted to make out the fine print on the pages. "Lieutenant Mark Renner? Who's he?"

Tony laughed. "Boss, I really think you need to invest in those glasses you've been putting off. Lt. Mark Rainer, twenty-nine, graduated from the Academy seven years ago with a degree in aerospace engineering. He was assigned to the _Stennis_ for the last cruise as, get this, the right seater of one of their SH-60 helicopters."

"And after some further digging, Tony discovered that his individual helicopter was one of two used to physically drop Megatron into the deep blue sea," Maggie added. Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

"Do we know where Lt. Rainer is now?" Optimus asked, joining the briefing after releasing Skids and Mudflap from their extended cleaning duties. The Trax and the Beat followed demurely behind their massive leader, both just happy to be done with their punishment.

Glen swiveled around his chair, his voice still slightly timid with Gibbs' imposing stare focused on him. "While you guys were out, we made a few phone calls. His wife said he was on a 'man's retreat' and she didn't sound happy."

"They never are," Gibbs mumbled. As Glen began to ask why, DiNozzo fixed him with a wide-eyed panicked expression and mouthed a frantic 'no' at the computer geek. Glen snapped his mouth closed before it could get him into any big trouble with the Gunny. Gibbs continued, completely unaware of the nonverbal conversation taking place literally behind his back. "Did she say where he went?"

"He's in Vegas actually. Apparently, the Lieutenant has an affinity for poker, and the World Series Main Event is going on right now at Binion's," Maggie said.

"Ziva, DiNozzo, bring him in and see if he has that shard with him." Gibbs started back toward the door, Lennox falling in step with the NCIS special agent.

Optimus tipped his head to the right and clenched his dental plates. "Skids, Mudflap, I would like you to accompany Agent DiNozzo and Officer David. You are to leave your comm lines to myself or Ironhide open at all times, and you will _not_ in any way deviate from the mission I am about to give you. Am I clear?"

"Yeah, Boss Bot. No more engergon disposal cleanin' for us. That shit was shit!" Mudflap exclaimed.

Optimus nodded. That was as good as it gets from those two. "Right. Take our NCIS guests to Las Vegas and help them retrieve Lt. Rainer from the casino. He may prove to have invaluable amounts of information."

Skids and Mudflap both poorly executed military salutes. Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You got it! You can count on us, you know."

"That's what concerns me," Ironhide grumbled from the other side of the room, the two human leaders tipping their heads to the weapons specialist as they passed.

Lennox still wore a slightly befuddled expression on his face, right hand stroking his chin in concentration as he and Gibbs walked. Nesbitt Lake wasn't adding up, and the Captain didn't like the feeling it was garnering. "I don't get it. Why, after all this time and effort, would Barricade just get up and leave? And why didn't Starscream blast us all into little tiny pieces when he had the chance?"

"No clue, but as soon as David and DiNozzo track own Rainer, we'll figure it out," Gibbs replied, eyeing DiNozzo getting into Skids' alt form. Thinking about his last statement, Gibbs added. "How good of an idea is this?"

"Which?" Lennox asked, still deep in thought.

"Sending my two troublemakers off with your two troublemakers."

"They're not my troublemakers, Gibbs. They're Prime's. Big difference." Lennox patted the NCIS agent amicably on the shoulder. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about them. Skids and Mudflap might be a little whacked in the CPU, but they're good soldiers. They'll take care of your people."

"Not what I was worried about. My people can take care of themselves."

Lennox ducked his head in acknowledgement. "Then mayhe it'll be good for them mutually to learn from each other. Besides, Vegas is over two hours from here. I think DiNozzo being in Skids' alt mode for that long is punishment enough for them both."

Gibbs laughed. "Good point."

Passing Optimus on their way out the hanger door, both Lennox and Gibbs caught the slightly pinched expression of Optimus' facial plates and saw a minute wince as he transformed into his Peterbilt mode. Brushing it off as nothing, Lennox grabbed his bag of essentials and slung it over his left shoulder. Gibbs mirrored the motion, and both men jumped into Ironhide's flatbed for a ride over to join Epps at the human quarters of the NEST base. Passing DiNozzo on their way out, Gibbs once again reminded himself that under the playful exterior, Tony was the best investigator with whom he'd ever worked.

DiNozzo strolled out of NEST technology center toward the assembled group on the tarmac. Clearing his throat, Tony waited until all attention was focused on him. "All right, listen up, people. Our fugitive has been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is four miles per hour. That gives us a radius of six miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard target search," DiNozzo overacted in grand fashion, Glen standing to join the action. Tony put his arms around the geek's shoulder and the two continued together. "…of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farm house, hen house, out house and dog house in that area. Checkpoints go up at fifteen miles. Your fugitive's name is Lieutenant Mark Rainer. Go get him."

Ziva and Maggie both shrieked in irritation. "Tony, every time we have a fugitive, must you repeat that line?! I swear I have heard it more than I care to remember and I have not even seen the movie from which it originated!"

"Oh, come on Ziva! The Fugitive is a great movie. A masterpiece, really. Tommy Lee Jones, Harrison Ford, who doesn't love it?," Glen said as he went to lean against Mudflap. The brownish red twin shook his frame in irritation, Glen stepping away with his hands up. "And really? You've never seen it?"

Ziva shook her head to the negative.

"Oh, before you leave, you and I are going to watch that movie together!" Glen announced.

DiNozzo pointed to Glen with both hands. "Aha. _Aha!_ See! Someone who appreciates the finer points of movies! My man!" Both men exchanged high fives.

Ziva tipped her head to one side. "It is still infuriating. Besides, in case you failed to notice, we are in the desert! There are no farm houses, hen houses or dog houses," Ziva responded.

"But there are out houses!" Glen happily pointed out.

Mudflap's voice wafted through his speakers. "Hey, man. There are farms out here."

Not to be left out, Skids amended, "Yeah. We went cow tipping right before you guys got here."

"You went--" She paused. "Wait. Do not tell me. That information is more than I need to know."

"Probably wise," Maggie added from near Mudflap's front fender.

Ziva opened the driver's side door to Mudflap's alt mode. "Can we go, please?"

Maggie bit her lip. "Right. Yes, you guys should go. Remember, Glen and I will both be here if you need anything. I'll send you Rainer's hotel information when we can hack into the hotel's--" she stopped, seeing the expression of dismay on Tony's face. "I mean after the hotel calls us with the information."

"That's better. We should be back tonight with the precious cargo. Call us in anything changes," DiNozzo said as he slid into the driver's seat of Skids' green Beat. Maggie and Glen turned and began walking toward their domain. Out of Skids' sunroof, Tony's voice filtered back to their ears. "Oh! Road trip! Hey, have you seen Dumb and Dumber? Oh you have! Okay then. 'Mock, YEAH! Ing, YEAH! Bird, YEAH!"

Glen let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Did he actually feel sorry for Skids? "Boy, that's gonna be a long trip."

"No _shit_."

* * *

Ducking back into his quarters to hit the wash rack, Optimus peeled his armor away carefully and surveyed the damage from Starscream's lucky missile. It wasn't anything serious; as Prime his armor was second to none, but the smattering of damage was just enough to cause him some discomfort. Looking down, Prime could see some melted engine components that would need to be replaced and some wiring that had been fried. Poking around, Optimus found the problem spot. Right below his spark chamber, some of his sensitive wiring had fused to his protoform, pulling uncomfortably every time he moved. Deciding it would have to wait, Prime quickly rinsed off and began reapplying his armor. Not bothering with the lights, Optimus moved through from the wash rack to the living area.

"I knew that missile did more damage to you than that stubborn CPU of yours would let you admit."

Optimus stopped short at the sight of Ironhide sitting calmly at the table in the Boss Bot's personal quarters. Schooling his face from open surprise to sheer annoyance, Prime replied, "Ironhide. What are you doing here? And how did you get in?"

Propping one armor clad leg up on the chair, Ironhide drawled, "Ratchet has a new theory on why the 'Cons want those shards, but he needs your approval to test it. And you need to change your passcode more often, Optimus. It's way too easy to guess." Ironhide finished with a passive shrug of his massive shoulders.

Narrowing his optics, Prime changed his tactics. "I thought I heard you giving a similar lecture to Skids and Muflap just the other day. What was it you said? 'Infiltrate and liberate'?"

Not intimidated by Optimus' stare, Ironhide waved his hand. "That's different. They were talking about your high grade, which I know you have hidden somewhere in here, not about making sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, Ironhide." Bristling, Optimus tried to grab Ironhide's shoulders to forcibly push him out of his personal space only to have the wiring in his abdomen protest at the sudden movement. Hissing though his vents, Prime placed a hand on his grill.

The weapons specialist scoffed, crossing his thick cannon-laden arms over his chest. "Fine, huh? Lemme see."

"We have work to do. It's minor, nothing that can't wait until we've figured out what's going on with Petty Officer Mitchell and NCIS," Optimus snapped.

Ironhide's reply was equally as harsh. "That why you're grimacing when you move too quick? Yeah. That's fine, all right."

"Not now, 'Hide."

Ironhide leaned further back in his chair, lifting the two front legs of the reinforced metal off the floor. "You know I ain't moving until I take a look at what you're hiding under there. And you want to get out, you have to go over me."

"No."

The two bots glared at each other, optics blazing brightly. Ironhide cocked his head to the side, his tone icy. "Why are you being so stubborn, Optimus? Now, let me take a look."

His vents literally steaming, Prime relented. He knew it was a futile battle of wills with Ironhide, and 'Hide was nearly as bad as Ratchet. The only difference being Ratchet would hit Optimus with a large wrench; Ironhide would probably just settle on punching him. Releasing the catches on his chest armor, Optimus removed it, set it aside and waited for the inevitable.

Ironhide poked a couple of blunt fingers into the chest cavity of his commanding officer. Moving past all the blackened bits of caked on dirt and shrapnel, he let out a vehement growl of frustration. "For Primus' sake, Optimus. You have a major wiring bundle and harness fused to your protoform. No wonder it hurts." Leaving no room for argument, Ironhide barked, "Ratchet. Now."

The commander and weapons specialist walked down the corridor to medbay, Ironhide mumbling about 'frustrating, pain in the aft commanders' the entire way there. Upon entry, the two found Ratchet busy at his desk, calculation and theories scribbled on various data pads littering the surface.

Not bothering with preamble, Ratchet went straight to business. "Prime, I have a theory about those shards, but I need your permission to test it."

"Go ahead, Ratchet."

"I can't think of any other reason the Decepticons would want those pieces other than the reanimation of Megatron. It's the only logical explanation," Ratchet said as he tapped a finger on his chin.

Optimus nodded. "I concur. What will your experiment involve?"

The medic pursed his dental plates. "Primus forgive me, I need to use Jazz's spark to see if the shards have any effect on it. I don't want to, but I can't think of any other way."

Prime internalized a scowl. Jazz was with the Matrix, and Optimus felt he had no right to disturb the sanctity of that. But, as the war dragged on, Prime found the grey line that separated ethical from unethical was blurring further each day. Pinching the bridge of his noseplates, Optimus gave in. "You have my permission, Ratchet."

Ironhide shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like disturbing the dead any more than Ratchet, but as the medic had so astutely pointed out, they were fresh out of other, better options. "You'll be as gentle as possible." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Of course, Ironhide. This is not fun for me, but it appears to be necessary. If what our NCIS friends have said is true, we may have a truly powerful weapon on our hands," Ratchet finished, not needing to say on whom that "weapon" could be used.

Prime shifted his optics around. "If you've nothing else, Ratchet. I have work to do."

"No. That's it for now. I'll keep you apprised on my findings," Ratchet answered, not looking up from his work.

Ironhide shifted his weight to his left leg and crossed his arms over his chest again in annoyance. Trust Prime to be stubborn and hard headed about his own health, though by this point he should expect it. '_Typical. Fragger gets to medbay and then doesn't say a word_.' As Optimus walked by, Ironhide stuck his hand out and jabbed his commander in a particularly sensitive spot right above his grill.

"'Hide! What was that for?" Optimus hissed, his hydraulics wheezing unhappily. Glaring daggers at his weapons specialist, Prime valiantly resisted the urge to rub the sore spot Ironhide had so rudely hit.

"Just proving a point, Optimus," Ironhide casually said.

At the sound of Prime's pained yelp, Ratchet's head jerked up. Taking in the battle of wills before him, Ratchet snapped, "What's this? What the pit is going on here?"

Ironhide leaned his weight against the wall and crossed his right ankle over the top of his left foot. Jerking his thumb in Optimus' direction, Ironhide quipped sarcastically, "Why don't you ask Mr. Invincible over here. I'm sure he'll tell you _exactly_ what happened."

Ratchet fixed the Autobot leader with the stare used so effectively over the past nine million years, and the only stare that would beget instant compliance from the fiercely self-reliant leader. Pointing, the medic said just two words. "Sit. Now."

Turning, Ironhide smugly made his way out the door, being sure to lock it as he passed. As he secured the door with a code, Ironhide spotted Lennox and Epps making their way down the corridor.

"Have you seen Prime, Ironhide? I have something I need to ask him," Lennox asked.

"He's in there with Ratchet." Pointing up at the red light indicative of the room being otherwise occupied, Ironhide added, "It's going to be a while."

Lennox and Epps both paled, concern in their voices. "Is Optimus okay?"

Ironhide gave a grunt. "Oh, he will be after The Hatchet gets through with him. He might be a little irritated with me for a while though. You boys should pull up a chair. Probably be pretty amusing if you ask me."

A few minutes later, Lennox decided he was truly glad for the Autobot strength locks on the oversized blast doors. Specifically when Ratchet was in one of his moods, the locks kept unsuspecting humans and Autobots out, and angry medics and wary patients in. Ratchet's medbay was probably the most secure and safest place in all of NEST. No expense was spared in its construction and whatever request Ratchet made was immediately granted. It was blastproof, fireproof, and airtight if necessary. It could serve as a bunker in a pinch and housed a separate command area in the office. In short, it was the backup of all backups.

Unfortunately, no one ever thought to make it soundproof.

Lennox and Epps and were both seated in chairs with their feet propped up directly outside medbay, listening to Ratchet's latest rant.

"I swear to Primus I will disassemble you piece by piece and turn you into the most efficient Zamboni humanity has ever seen if you _even think_ of pulling a stunt like that again! Playing catch with Starscream's missiles. NEST is a tactical team! Tactical does not equal what you did. Where was the finesse? The subtlety? In the name of all things holy, what were you thinking, Prime?" Ratchet ranted as he dug more blackened shrapnel out of Optimus' chest.

A million different retorts marched their way through his processor, and though Prime desperately wanted to choose a more colorful one, he settled on, "I apparently was not."

"You're fragging right you weren't! And look where it got you! Yet another trip to my medbay. You must see this as some sort of a sport, you and Ironhide. Do the two of you come out of recharge every day, comm each other and say, 'How are you, Ironhide?' 'Fine.' 'Good. Well, how can we frag up Ratchet's miserable existence today?' Do you have any idea how many times you've been here since we've landed on Earth?" Ratchet's voice pitched higher with each sentence.

Prime raised an optic ridge as the medic waved a soot covered metal object in Optimus' face. What the slag was that? A Mountain Dew can? Finding his voice, he responded. "No. Should I?"

"Five. And we've only been here six months. That's almost once a month, in case you've jarred your CPU hard enough to require recalibration." Ratchet tugged on a bundle of blackened wires in Prime's abdominal area.

"Ouch! Slag it medic, watch it!" Optimus' hand went to cover the still sensitive area under his grill. Expelling hot air through his vents to cool his system, Optimus looked Ratchet in the optic. "I apologize for causing you grief, Ratchet. It is not now nor has it ever been my intent to 'frag up your existence' as you put it. As for your explanation, I saw a situation and I reacted to it."

"It could have gotten you offlined, Optimus! You're a strong mech, but even you can't withstand a direct hit from a missile like that," Ratchet fired back.

When he felt the irritated medic run yet another full system scan, Optimus insisted, "I'm fine, 'Ratch. A bit sore, but fine."

Looking Prime in the optic, Ratchet said, "You need to let me be the judge of that. After all, I am the medic, and you're not exactly the best at being forthcoming about your injuries."

Score one for the medic. Pausing briefly to regain his sense of calm, Prime responded, "I realize that. I just feel that all this fuss is unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" Ratchet gave a hard scoff as he again adjusted some wiring, this time in Optimus' left thigh, a little harder than needed. Prime winced but said nothing. "Optimus, if it weren't for Ironhide, you would still be picking dirt, metal, burned wires and only Primus knows what else out of your chest plates yourself, so don't lecture me on unnecessary procedures."

Optimus opened his mouth to start and refute his medic, but then thought better of it.

"You and your slagging hero complex will be the end of my CPU. You know I'm right, youngling, so don't even think about arguing with me. You know I am in no mood," Ratchet warned he waved a wrench dangerously close to Optimus' face.

Prime inwardly simmered. "I haven't been a youngling in a few million years, Ratchet. And I'm still Prime. If I want to get up and do my job as I should, I will. I know myself well enough to know when I need service and when I don't," Optimus reminded the medic.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge again in amusement. "And your acquiescence right now has nothing to do with the fact that I have no qualms about chasing you down and tying you up to help you?"

Prime scowled for a second time and glared at his long time friend. Primus, he hated it when Ratchet was right. No other being in the universe could make the almighty Autobot leader, slayer of all things unfriendly, feel like a youngling again with such practiced ease. And if he were really honest, the lecture Optimus was receiving right now was the other deterrent from seeking medical care immediately upon returning to NEST.

Finally beginning to come down off his anger induced high, Ratchet's biting tone and harsh words softened. A haunted look passed the medic's optics, there and gone in a split second. "Prime, you know as well as I that we can't afford to lose you."

Optimus shook his head, still unused to and not wishing for the pedestal his title put him on amongst the Autobot faction. "I am just one mech, Ratchet, no more important than you, Ironhide, Bumblebee or any other Autobot on this base."

"That's where you're wrong, Prime. We need you to lead yes, but we need you to be there at the end of the fight, too. No matter how much you tell yourself that you're not important, it's simply not true!" Ratchet's passion was showing clearly though his words even as he worked on replacing the sensitive wiring bundle and harness Starscream damaged in his attack.

Optimus hung his head in defeat, unable to withstand Ratchet's withering gaze. Prime knew the medic wasn't really angry with him. Rather, he was upset that Optimus was so selfless in his protection of others, but careless in the protection of himself. The young commander had been on the receiving end of The Medic Scorned countless times over the years, and this incident was no exception. The Hummer's passion and his caring, albeit tough, was one of the reasons Prime was still online after the centuries of war with the Decepticons. However, that didn't mean he had to necessarily _like_ being yelled at, though.

Cycling his vents slowly, Prime conceded, "I know, Ratchet. But I can't just do nothing. You know of all mechs it would not be right for me to simply stand there and watch. Tim's life was in danger, and had I not acted, he would likely be dead. It was preventable, and if I had to take the hit, then so be it. I would survive it. He would not."

Though Ratchet was loath to admit it, hearing Optimus concede that he knew he was needed did much to dispel the Hummer's rising anger. His rant losing its steam, Ratchet stopped his work briefly and set down his tools. "And I must thank you for that. As you said, McGee would be dead had you not shielded him from the majority of the blast."

"And that would have been unforgivable," Optimus finished. Though the day's mission had been a success, there were many others in NEST's short history that were not. "You needed to thank me for that, Ratchet? You like him, don't you."

"Who?"

"McGee," Prime responded.

Noncommittal, Ratchet asked, "And if I do?"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't or that you can't. I'm simply amused by it," Optimus said as he stood to test Ratchet's repair work. No pain when he flexed his chest. That was good. "The only other human with whom you've shown a similar level of camaraderie is Mikaela, and even she is distant second to how _nice_ you are to Tim."

"I admit Special Agent McGee reminds me of that little sibling that won't quite go away, but one that I never minded having around. Really, he's a good kid, and he means well. I trust him to do right by us." With one critical optic analyzing Prime's movements, Ratchet continued. "Besides, he reminds me of someone I used to know a long time ago, before this war started. A dockworker named Orion Pax. Know him?"

Optimus let out a laugh as he sat back down on the medical berth for Ratchet to make a couple final adjustments. "Be careful, Ratchet. You're in danger of losing your cynical medic front."

"Yeah, well you can just keep that to yourself, Optimus," the medic grumbled as he began to put away his tools. Turning up the snark again, Ratchet added, "The leader portion notwithstanding Prime, you're still a processor fragged pain in my aft."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way." Prime smiled as he stood to exit. "Oh, and Ratchet?"

"Yes, Prime."

"Thanks."

* * *

**Next Up**: DiNozzo and Ziva drag Rainer back to NEST and the joint group discovers exactly what the Decepticons have been up to.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note**: This is the last chapter of the story line and should wrap it up. I'm not fully satisfied with the climax of the story, but it's the best I could do with all the plot elements I had while still having the story make sense. I had literally six different endings in mind, and this is a combination of all of them. This part's seriously been rewritten a gazillion times and I still don't like it.

There's still an epilogue to go, but that'll be it for Alienated. Abby's sequel, All Expenses Paid will probably begin posting sometime in early December, if my schedule allows. Oh, and Lt. Rainer's character profile is based loosely on Private Hudson from Aliens. Couldn't help it. XD

**Disclaimer**: I will say it one more time: THEY'RE NOT MINE!!!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

Gibbs sat outside the back of one of the rarely used NEST hangers, calmly gazing out at the sunset. He had this nagging feeling he was missing something, and that was the one missing link that would help solve the case. Pouring himself another cup of coffee from his thermos, Gibbs sighed. Normally when he was uptight or anxious, he would go sand the boat and drink some of the 'paint stripper' Fornell referred to as his bourbon. At Diego Garcia, Gibbs wasn't afforded either luxury, so he settled for coffee and a view of the desert.

"If you walked any louder, I might mistake you for an elephant." Gibbs never turned his head, but spoke when he knew Lennox was about ten feet away.

Stopping short, Will cocked his head to the left. He'd not made a sound on his approach, save that of his soft footfalls. "You can hear that well?"

"I was a sniper, Lennox. I used to do that for a living."

Lennox's lips curled up into a smile. Despite the rough exterior and confidence shattering glares, the Captain genuinely liked Gibbs. "Are you going to shoot me if I try to sit down, then?"

Gibbs reached over and moved his thermos. "Nah. Grab a rock."

Will hopped over the small rock formation sealing a gap in the corner of the building and sat down next to Gibbs. "I take it you're not out here to enjoy the view."

Still not turning his head, Gibbs instead studied a cactus to his left. "No. I needed to think, and this was the only place quiet enough to do it."

"Do you get the feeling we're missing something, too?"

"Yep. That's what my gut's telling me."

"And let me guess: your gut's not usually wrong, right?" Lennox asked.

"It's never wrong," the Gunny corrected. Taking another sip of his coffee, Gibbs sighed. "Tell me about that jet thing."

Lennox scoffed. "Starscream? He's a pain in the ass. I don't have the whole book on him; for that you'd want to talk to Prime, but what I need to know is that he's Megatron's second in command. He's not a natural leader, but he's power hungry. He'll do what he needs to because he wants control, but he's a coward. He's the first to turn tail and run, literally. Personally, I think he's a psychopath, but that's just my opinion."

Gibbs nodded, lifting his cup up to his lips once again. "I gathered that. What I don't get is why he would just kill that other guy, the one that almost smashed McGee into little pieces, but leave us alone?"

"Yeah, I don't get that either, Gibbs, though I can tell you that I won't cry over it. Starscream actually did me a favor on that one. It's one less 'Con I have to worry about later," Lennox replied.

"So what does he want, and why would he just kill one of his own guys?" Gibbs mused out loud.

"Well, according to Ironhide, Barricade and Starscream never got along. With Megatron dead, Starscream was the next in line to take his place. Maybe Barricade wouldn't accept it. Hell, I don't know." Lennox blew out an exasperated breath. "To be honest with you Gibbs, this whole alien civil war thing is something I can't really comprehend. There's so much we don't know, and so much we won't be told."

"Need to know?"

"Yeah."

Gibbs twitched his head to the side, his face pulling into a sarcastic expression of understanding. "Prime's holding out on you. Nice."

Lennox snorted. "Wouldn't you? If there's one thing I've learned from hanging around with these guys, it's that humanity should have wiped itself out long ago because we're just that idiotic. We don't need any help from the Decepticons. We're stupid enough just left to our own devices."

"I won't argue with you, but that still doesn't explain why Starwhatever left us alone. If he's as ruthless as you say, wouldn't he just kill us when he had the chance?"

"Based off what I know, I would think so. Unless…" Lennox trailed off. Recognition flickered through both human commanders' eyes simultaneously.

"He knows about the third shard," Gibbs finished. "You're right. That's the only reason that makes any logical sense."

"He must think we know something, too. That's why he didn't attack us or the other Autobots." Lennox stood up to pace, crossing his left arm over his chest and resting his right elbow on his wrist and his right hand on his cheek. "He wants our intel."

Gibbs' face grew somber. "Lennox, what if he knows we already have Mitchell's piece? Didn't Ratchet say a bigger chunk survived your firefight?"

"Oh, shit. Yeah, we did have a splinter left. Optimus pulled it out of Megatron, remember?" Stopping dead in his tracks, Lennox chewed on his lip.

"He thinks we have it and wants to know where it is," Gibbs said, annoyed that he hadn't figured it out sooner. "And that means…"

"I'll get Prime and the other Autobots together. We need to call Ziva and Tony."

* * *

Las Vegas, Nevada

Las Vegas was all Ziva had ever imagined it to be and then some. The lights, the sounds and the sheer amount of crazy and semi-sober people were mind-boggling. And the Elvises! Or was it Elvi? Walking down the strip toward the Hard Rock, Ziva let her mind wander. She really had to make a point to come back when she could actually enjoy herself.

"Ziva. Ziva!"

Shaking her head, Ziva looked back to see Tony eyeing her warily. "I apologize. I was a bit distracted. Las Vegas is a very bright place."

"Get used to it, Ziva. Vegas is the city that never sleeps, baby!" DiNozzo exclaimed. Slowing his pace, he pointed. "Ah. Hard Rock Hotel. Come on. Let's go see if we can find a way to search his room."

The two NCIS agents strolled up to the front desk. Behind it, a young blonde, no more than 22, was absently fiddling away on the computer.

"Excuse me, miss?" Tony asked, putting his right side forward and leaning casually on the counter. "I was hoping you could help me out."

Seeing the twinkle in Tony's eyes, the hostess batted her eyelashes and leaned forward. Ziva barely restrained the urge to punch something and somehow managed to beat back the growl bubbling up from her throat. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Well, you see, my girlfriend and I are here with a friend of ours, and he's deep in the throes of a thrilling poker game. He said he needed his sunglasses from his room, and he asked us to get them. Problem is, we forgot to grab the key from him and I don't want to disturb him again. Do you know what I mean?"

She smiled and tucked her chin down. "Yes, sir. I know how those poker types can get. Let me guess: you need me to reactivate another key."

Tony gave the girl, whose nametag identified her as "Becky", his thousand-watt smile. "You got it!" Turning to Ziva, he said, "See, honey. I told you she was bright."

Ziva inwardly wanted to vomit, but plastered a fake smile on her face and sidled up to Tony "You were right about this one."

Becky grabbed a spare key and tapped its edge against her face. "Now, who's your friend?"

"Mark Rainer."

Becky's eyes lit up. "Oh! You're Mr. Rainer's friends? Let me tell you what a terrific guy he is! Always polite and nice to us working stiffs here at the hotel. A lot of people aren't, you know."

"Boy, don't I!" Tony exclaimed, happy to follow along with the charade if it resulted in more information.

A look of sly deviousness spread across her features. "Hey, do you guys know anything about that shard he's been showing off to everyone?"

"Wait. The shard? _The_ shard?" Ziva asked.

Becky's green eyes flashed. "Yeah! The one that looked all alien and cool. Mr. Rainer said he found it while on a secret mission." Putting one hand to her mouth and taking a look around to be sure no one was within earshot, she lowered her voice to a low tone. "He's a navy SEAL, you know, so he couldn't tell me more."

Ziva was now sure that when they did catch Rainer, she was going to kill him simply for feeding so much bullshit to a girl whose mental elevator did quite obviously not make it anywhere near the top. Brightening her eyes, Ziva asked with false enthusiasm, "So, what details did he give you about it?"

"Well, not much else, actually, though he did ask me this afternoon where a good pawn shop is. Said he had a little rough luck at the tables, so he needed some extra cash and fast."

Ziva and Tony exchanged nervous expressions. "What did you tell him?"

Becky absently straightened the files on her workspace. "I told him there was a 24 pawn shop right outside Garnet. It's a dump and pretty much deserted, but I thought the owner would probably buy the shard from him. Did you guys hear about all the ruckus over in Mission City about six months ago?"

Tony nodded, still playing it cool. "Yeah. Some government thing, wasn't it?"

Becky began to twirl one chunk of blonde hair through her fingers. "Well, that's the official version, but most folks around here don't believe that. There were reports of giant alien robots fighting in that city, and that the government operation was just a cover up."

Mildly puzzled, Ziva asked, "What does that have to do with Mark?"

Slapping her hand down on the counter, Becky practically shouted, "Oh! The guy that owns that shop totally believes that Mission City was no hoax, and that there really are giant alien robots living on Earth. How whack is that!"

"Did he pawn it? I mean, we would have given him the money," Ziva said. "What are friends for?"

"Yeah. He pawned it this morning."

Ziva and Tony locked eyes and turned in unison toward the casino entrance. "Thanks Becky! You've been a great help!"

"Wait! Don't you guys need his key?"

Simultaneously, Ziva and Tony called back, "Nope!"

Working their way as fast as the crowds would allow, the NCIS agents weaved through the rows of slot machines, past the blackjack tables and over to poker. Sitting at an Omaha table, Ziva spotted him. Blonde hair and blue eyes with a slender build, Rainer was not what either agent would consider physically intimidating. With a nod, Ziva and Tony split up to come around the lieutenant's back.

"Lieutenant. Mark Rainer?"

"Yeah, who's askin?" the chopper pilot grunted without turning from his game. "And don't you know anything about poker etiquette? You don't interrupt."

Ziva smiled sweetly. "Sorry. I am not from this country. I didn't know."

"It don't have nothin' to do with countries. And lady, 'next time' you should learn. Poker is a language spoken around the world," Rainer ground out, tossing some chips into the pot. "Who the hell are you guys and why are you bothering me?"

Instead of a verbal response, both Ziva and Tony grabbed one of Rainer's shoulders and hands, pulling him neatly off the stool on which he was perched and handcuffing him. Leaning down to his ear level, Tony whispered, "NCIS. We need to have a little educational discussion with you about the acceptable uses of government property." Louder for the table's benefit, Tony added, "It's okay everyone. Federal agents. We're just here to arrest a thief!"

Dragging a very unhappy Lieutenant. Rainer out to where Skids and Mudflap were waiting in the parking garage, Ziva opened the back door of the Trax's alt mode and tossed him inside. After buckling their passenger in, Ziva jumped into Mudflap, DiNozzo took his seat inside Skids and the group took off north, away from the strip and towards a less populated area.

Skids and Mudflap stopped a few minutes outside Garnet, Nevada. For once, both twins shut down their alt modes and obediently waited for Tony and Ziva's next instruction. DiNozzo hopped out of Skids and slid smoothly in the passenger door of the reddish brown Trax to face a very angry Mark Rainer.

"What the hell is this? This is kidnapping! You pricks are going to be fucking done with NCIS, I swear to God!"

Turning in his seat, Tony turned and pointed. "Actually, when you're under arrest, it just means that you're under arrest. And Lieutenant, who taught you to trash talk? I would think chopper pilots would be a little more inventive than that."

Rainer's eyes narrowed. "Under arrest? What for?"

Ziva glared. "For starters, how about larceny and maybe a national security breech to go along with it!"

"Larc--National security? What are you people talking about?" Rainer defensively half yelled, his sarcasm fully present and accounted for.

"You know that nifty little piece of metal you lifted from inside Mr. Big? Yeah. That piece of national security" DiNozzo's tone dripped with condescension.

Rainer rolled his eyes. "I didn't steal it. I won it off that crypto Mitchell."

Tony's head bobbed up and down in apathetic understanding. "Oh, because that makes it all better. I don't care where you got it, just that you had it. Now, just be a good Lieutenant and tell us where it is."

Rainer again summoned his tough guy bravado. "I don't have to say shit. I want a laywer. Now." Rainer's leered at Ziva, his eyes looking her appreciatively up and down.

"And here I thought you'd make this easy on us," Tony sighed.

Rainer grinned cockily. "I got news for you, NCIS. I hate you, I hate the Navy and I hate being on ships. I'm only here long enough to finish out my commitment from that godforsaken cesspool of an academy and then I'm gone. I got bigger plans than to spend my life toiling around a ship, saluting dimwitted commanders and making next to zero money."

"Ah. That's what this is about. Money," DiNozzo exposed from the passenger seat.

Rainer snorted in surprise. "Isn't it always? As much as those ass kissing idiotic and crooked politicians hate to admit, that's the thing that really does make this pitiful world go around."

With each passing second, DiNozzo's sympathies for Rainer plummeted. He could completely understand why Mrs. Rainer was less than thrilled in her marriage and so eager to give up her husband's current location. "That's all great, but we have a case to solve. What'd you do with that shard?"

Rainer leaned forward as far as the restraints and handcuffs would allow, his tone soft and serious. "I told you. No. Lawyer. Now."

Ziva growled and practically jumped through the small space separating the two front seats. Landing nearly on top of the cocky naval aviator, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Her face an inch from his, she hissed, "What did you do with that shard? Where is it?!"

Rainer's eyes went cold and his lips pulled back into an evil smile. He chuckled, his sure expression meeting Ziva's angry one. "Go to hell. I saw what we were dumping in the ocean, and it didn't scare me. Do what you want. I ain't talking."

Ziva cocked her head to the side and bit her lip. Giving Rainer a light slap on the cheek, she shimmied back to the driver's seat to give a nod to DiNozzo. Both agents stepped out of the car and dragged Rainer out with them. As soon as they were clear, DiNozzo patted the green Beat's hood and said three words: "Okay, you two."

Clicking, hissing and whirring, both Skids and Mudflap transformed out of their alt modes and stood in front of a visibly shocked Rainer. Placing his hands on his hips, Skids was the first to talk. "Now, man. I think the lady asked you a question, and you need to answer it."

Rainer's head ping ponged back and forth between Skids and Mudflap. Although the Minor Twins were not the most physically intimidating Autobots, their brazenness, and their sometimes wanton levels of stupidity made them a driving force. "Hey, dude!" Mudflap yelled, nudging the Lieutenant with his oversized arm. "Didn't you hear my bro? Answer the lady!"

The Lieutenant swallowed audibly, the first sign he'd displayed of any sort of nervousness. "I still ain't talking. Gonna take a lot more than that to scare me." His words were strong, though voice had lost some of its previous steadiness.

Ziva took notice of the little warble in Rainer's voice. "Oh, we have bigger guns than those two, but if we have to get them out here, neither one will be very happy. That would not bode well for you, Lieutenant. The first is thirty feet tall, can literally move buildings and has a rifle three times the length of your body."

From near Skids' foot, DiNozzo chimed in, absently picking at a hangnail on his right index finger. "And the other one is big and black, has a really bad temper, and loves to shoot the cannons attached to his forearms. We'd love to demonstrate."

Ziva snapped her fingers in the air dramatically. "Oh! And we forgot to mention _our_ boss. Though he is not nearly as big, he's just as mean and he will not hesitate to shoot you."

Rainer continued to glare, his defiance clear but fear in his eyes. "Fuck off, bitch. I don't know how many different ways I can tell you I ain't talking."

Both Skids and Mudflap activated their arm-mounted firearms and let them spin up to firing temperature. Skids narrowed his optics, purposefully invading Rainer's personal space. "Dude, you pissin' us off, and you disrespectful. That just ain't right. Now, apologize to the lazy, tell her what she wants to know and there won't be no problems here."

Mudflap stepped forward, rolling his neck once each direction as a cage fighter might. "You don't want none of this. We may not look like much, but we can bust your face up. You ain't nothin' compared to the last thing that pissed us off."

Tony shimmied his way in between Rainer and an agitated Mudflap. "So, sailor boy. Are you gonna tell us what we want to know, or are we going to have to just turn our backs and hope you're still in one piece when they're done?"

The perspective of an old school beat down courtesy of two alien robots that very obviously had a screw or two loose in their heads was too much for Rainer and his manufactured ego. His false bravado fell away and he sank back a couple of steps in fear. "Okay! Okay! I sold the shard!"

Where?" Ziva growled, her face an inch from Rainer's.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving Skids and Mudflap. "I dunno! Some pawn shop around here. The chick at the front desk told me about a place that would take it."

DiNozzo grabbed the front of Rainer's shirt. "Oh! Becky. You know Mark, we're going to have to have a little talk about that, too. See, it's not nice to lie to people, especially when they're not the brightest bulbs on the tree. You get my drift?"

The Lieutenant simply nodded.

"Now," Tony breathed out a dramatic breath. "Where's the shard?"

Rainer adverted his eyes to focus at some random rock on the ground. "I can show you. Just have those two…do what they do and I'll tell you where to go."

Tony stared at Rainer for a brief second before he stepped back and nodded to Skids and Mudflap. A few clanks, clangs and Cybertronian curses later, the twins were back in their unassuming alt modes. Rainer shuddered, shook his head and stepped in. "Keep going north on Interstate 15 and go into Garnet. The pawn shop is there."

About 40 minutes later, minutes later, the quintet pulled into the grimiest, most dilapidated pawn shop Tony had ever seen. It looked like it was a building left over from a missile test the way the paint chipped off the walls and the spackle barely held the holes together. DiNozzo didn't even want to know how much vermin invested the place, especially considering the pungent odor of urine permeating the entire store.

Walking up to the counter alone, Tony was careful not to touch anything. He wasn't Nikki Jardine, NCIS' germaphobe extraordinaire by any means, but even he had standards. Pulling out the charm again, Tony cleared his throat to get the attention of the clerk, who appeared to be more intent on finishing his crossword than helping a potential customer. "Excuse me?"

The clerk looked up. "What?"

"I was told by a friend of mine that you guys dealt with specialty items. I was wondering what you had."

The clerk grunted. "What kind of specialty? We got a lot of that shit around here."

DiNozzo looked around the store and suppressed a, '_Yeah apparently,_' that was tickling the tip of his tongue. The clerk was right about that. They had a lot of special _junk_. Out loud, he said, "Well, there was this whole battle over at Mission City a couple of months ago. Now, I don't know about you, but I smell government cover up. Have anything from that?"

The clerk scrutinized DiNozzo for a beat. Then, walking over to locked drawer near the desk, he pulled out an old, beaten up cigar box. Closing the drawer, he ambled back over to Tony's position on the opposite side of the counter.

"What about this?" The scraggly man held the box out for Tony's inspection. DiNozzo opened it and peered in. Nestled in a couple of dirty handkerchiefs was an identical piece of alien metal to the chunk pulled out of PO Mitchell.

"Can I pick it up?" DiNozzo asked.

The clerk gestured with one hand. "Knock yerself out."

DiNozzo reached in and picked up the shard. Rolling it over in his palm, he felt the heaviness of the metal in relation to its small size. The glyphs on the shard were similar to the ones on Mitchell's shard, and nearly identical to the ones engraved on Optimus' helmet armor. Setting the shard back down, DiNozzo asked the magic question. "How much?"

The clerk eyed Tony critically again; DiNozzo figured he was probably assessing how much money he could get. "One thousand."

DiNozzo scoffed. "No way, man. That's way too steep. Two hundred."

The clerk looked insulted. "That's robbery of me. Seven fifty."

"Are you seriously crazy? I'll give you three hundred," Tony countered.

"Still not good enough. Five hundred."

Tony put the box down and gestured with his hands at the empty store. "Hey, this place ain't exactly hopping. I would think you'd hate to let a sale walk. Three fifty."

The clerk narrowed his eyes at DiNozzo. "Four hundred, and not a penny less."

Tony smiled. "Deal."

DiNozzo dug out his cash and paid for the item. He stood up and was infinitely glad the clerk didn't extend his hand for a handshake. Walking out, he passed dark haired well-built man on the way in. The two tried to go through the door at the same time, the size of the door prohibiting such an action. Bumping shoulders, the man glared at DiNozzo, his brown eyes looking nearly red in the reflection of the sun.

Tony grabbed the man's shoulders and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, man! I guess I need to watch where I'm going!" Receiving nothing but a grunt of irritation from the fellow patron, Tony whistled happily as he walked out the door. The group pulled out of the lot and back on to the freeway towards NEST. As he settled back into Skids' alt mode, Tony found the green beat had already opened a channel to his brother. Ziva's voice wafted through the speakers.

"Did you get it?"

"Yep. All snug and sound from the most disgusting pawn shop I have ever had the displeasure of being in," DiNozzo answered. Shifting, he asked, "Hey Ziva, ask our good Lieutenant how much the guy gave him for this piece of metal. I want to know if I got a good deal."

DiNozzo heard some grumbling, then Ziva's voice came back over the comm. "He said he got $250 for it."

Tony scowled. "So the guy just about doubled his money off me. I paid $400. That's ridiculous."

"I don't know, Tony. For a pawn shop, I thought that was pretty good, yes?

"Yeah, but I'm better than that." Stopping in mid thought, DiNozzo asked, "Hey Ziva, can tweedledee hear me right now?"

Vehement cursing was his response.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well, because he can, I have something to say. Rainer, I didn't think the Academy produced midshipmen as dumb as you apparently are. You sold the end of the world for $250? You are truly an embarrassment to the Navy and the Academy," Tony scolded.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that little piece of metal could end the world?" Rainer's indignant voice came back over the comm line.

"See, that's why stuff is classified. It's to keep dumbasses like you from screwing things up!" Tony answered. While he was in the shop, Ziva had elected to stay behind to babysit their wayward Lieutenant and to watch for any hostile action. DiNozzo assumed she must have explained as much as she was allowed about the shards and the Autobots.

In Mudflap's alt mode, Ziva picked up her phone, hit speed dial number one, and waited for Gibbs to pick up. Hearing Gibbs' famous greeting, DiNozzo responded, "Gibbs, we found Rainer, we recovered his shard and we will be returning to base tonight with him right now."

"_Good. He give you any trouble, Ziva_?"

The Mossad operative glanced over her shoulder into the back seat of Mudflap's Trax. Rainer was literally tied to the bench seat, handcuffed and very annoyed. Smiling, Ziva said, "None at all. He has been behaving himself."

"_That's good. Ziva listen, don't come back to the base_."

"Why not, Gibbs?"

"_Remember that jet McGee briefed us all on? The one that killed the car who tried to kill McGee? We think he is after those shards, too. That's probably why he didn't squish us at Nesbitt Lake when he had the chance_," Gibbs said. In the background, she could hear the high-pitched whine of turbos from a diesel engine, probably Optimus. "_Prime is sending the same information to Skids and Mudflap right now. We're on our way to a different meeting site_."

Ziva shifted the phone into her left hand. "What do you know?"

"_Get the info from the twins. Prime said he's done talking with them now_."

"I will do that."

Hanging up her phone, Ziva spoke into Mudflap's cabin, knowing the twin had a connection open to his brother. "Tony, did you hear that?"

"I did. What's the plan, boys?" DiNozzo asked.

Skids' voice came through the speakers. "Prime said he gonna meet us all northwest of here and we gon' see what's up."

Ziva nodded her head. "That sounds like a plan to me. How far is it?"

"We're gonna be there in about a half hour," Mudflap replied. Ziva had to remind herself they had a direct connection to the internet, and therefore could really never be lost.

"Good. Tony? Did you hear that part, too?" she asked.

"Yeah I did, but I think we have a bigger problem, Ziva."

"And that is?"

"I think there's a jet following us."

Both the Trax and the Beat floored their accelerators, throwing their human cargo around the small cabs. DiNozzo and David both righted themselves when the speed evened out. "I guess we'll be there in fifteen minutes," DiNozzo mumbled. "I think these guys learned driving from Gibbs."

Turning serious for the first time since Tony had the pleasure of their meeting, Skids replied, "DiNozzo, if our scans be right, that jet hoverin' above us is Starscream, and you'd better hope he don't wanna play."

As a non-verbal answer, Starscream dropped in low and made a high speed pass over the small convoy. The jetwash from the engines vibrated the twins' alt modes when Starscream pulled up hard to circle back around.

Ziva could hear literally Mudflap roll his eyes. "'O course he want to play. Let's go shoot at the little 'bots. Can't pick on nobody his own size, so he gotta come after us. Well, I AIN'T HAVIN' THAT SHIT! Skids! Time to do what we do!"

"That's right, Mudflap! Keep this pit-spawned piece of Decepti-slag guessin'! He can't hit what he can't catch!" Skids yelled happily. The two vehicles began an intricate weave pattern, similar to that used by soldiers crossing open fields while under enemy fire. The cars sped up and slowed down at no particular interval to keep Starscream on his toes, and zigged and zagged enough to make Muhammed Ali proud.

The booms of missiles and pops of bullets each exploding off the ground around them rang in the ears of the three humans. Rainer shrieked pitifully in the back seat, all his macho cockiness of earlier completely gone. Not blessed with internal chronometers, Ziva and Tony could only guess as to how much longer they would have to endure hell before they reached their destination, and with that, help from some bigger guns. Both spun in their respective driver's seats, looking forward backwards and sideways for the position of their F-22 adversary.

After what felt like eons, a small bluff came into view.

"We ain't got too much farther to go! Just over that ridge thing is where we be meetin' the big guns. Prime says he and ol' Ironhide are fifteen mintues away," Skids informed as he pulled yet another evasive maneuver to narrowly avoid a volley of 20 millimeter fire.

Tony swiveled his head nervously. "That might be fourteen minutes too late, Skids!" The jet's accuracy was improving with every shot, and truthfully DiNozzo was concerned how much longer the twins would be able to avoid the heavy bombardment from the enemy seeker. His thoughts were interrupted as a huge plume of dirt and debris exploded directly in front of Skids' windshield. Digging his fingers in the seat as much as he dared, Tony waited for the seeker to inevitably find his range.

Skids and Mudflap both executed perfect power slides around the side of the bluff. As soon as their human cargo was shielded from Starscream's attack, the twins dumped their passengers out. Transforming, they readied their weapons and moved into a defensive position over their human charges.

Starscream transformed and dropped down to the desert floor. His optics bounced from Skids to Ziva, then to Dinozzo and Mudflap, and finally settled on Rainer. Extending one claw, he rasped, "I'm not here for any one of you. All I want is him, and something very important I know he has."

'_He just wants the shard_.' Gibbs' words rang in her head as she analyzed the small team's present situation. Deciding to take her chances, Ziva took a hesitant step forward and raised one finger into the air. "And who are you, exactly?"

Starscream leaned down further to put his head closer to Ziva's level. Skids and Mudflap bristled at the threat, but stopped when Ziva held out her hand. "I see your good Lieutenant hasn't told you everything. Typical. He held out on me, too. I suppose I should have just killed him."

DiNozzo was confused. Starscream just said that he'd met Rainer? "Okay. I don't get it! Someone needs to explain."

Rainer looked as if he was truly about to lose his mind. "I told you? I held out on you? I've never met you before and I think I damn well would have remembered that!"

"Oh, but you have, and you were so eager then. So cocky, fleshling. Maybe this will help." Starscream's condescending tone cut off as the jet transformed again. In his alt mode, a human visage wavered into place in front of the humans and Autobots twins.

DiNozzo's eyes widened, though he made no other move that might give away his recognition of the person in front of him. Starscream's holoform was the man with whom he'd bumped shoulders at entrance to the pawn shop just a few minutes earlier. Leaning over to Ziva, DiNozzo quickly explained what happened.

"Oh shit," Rainer squeaked.

"You remember me now, don't you boy?"

"Something you're not telling us, Lieutenant, because now would be a really good time," Tony whispered from behind Rainer's back.

"Yes, by all means, Lieutenant. Please tell us so I can kill you and be on my way." Starscream added, "And I must thank you for your intel on your man Mitchell. It was very useful, or at least I thought it was."

At the rate they were widening, Rainer's eyes looked as if they would pop out of his head at any moment at the same time his heart plummeted in his chest. He correctly guessed Mitchell was dead, and knew deep down it was his fault. Otherwise, there would be no reason for NCIS to be looking for him, and he wouldn't be standing in front of alien robot that moonlighted as an F-22. Thinking back on his conversations with the "man" in front of him, Rainer recalled he'd accidentally slipped during one such correspondence. At the time, he'd thought nothing of it. Now he knew differently.

Rainer had erroneously stated that the shard was not in his possession, but in the hands of someone from his cruise. The person he told, Starscream's holoform, must have put two and two together and figured out Mitchell was the one with the goods. Obviously, the seeker hadn't recovered it even if he had killed Mitchell, but PO Mitchell was dead all the same. Though Mark Rainer was an arrogant, cocky asshole, he wasn't a murderer, and having the blood of another on his hands was more than his overtaxed conscience could handle. Time for some damage control. "I don't know anything, man! Look, all I know is what that crypto Mitchell told me! He said he blackmailed one of the MPs to let him in the hold and dig around in that buddy of yours. What was his name again? Megavolt?"

Starscream very nearly rolled his optics. "Mega_tron_, and he was not my 'buddy'. Now, I know you found something inside him. Otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

DiNozzo shoved Rainer. "You contacted him? What's wrong with you?"

"I didn't know, you idiot!" Turning his attention, Rainer pleaded to Starscream. "I don't have anything. I was never even in the hold where the Navy had your – Megatron. I only knew what Mitchell had, and I thought maybe I could get one over on him by dumping the information for a trade of cash."

Though Ziva had to repeatedly stop herself from making sure Rainer would physically lack the sufficient equipment to breed for the rest of his lifetime, she had to commend his ability to think on his feet. Perhaps, she mused, _something_ from his training as a combat chopper pilot had stuck if he had been able to formulate a lie so smoothly. That, or he did it often, which would mean that dishonesty was second nature. Personally, Ziva thought it was probably the latter, but if his bluff worked, it might just save their lives.

Starscream was stuck between a rock and a hard place. When the fleshling before him had made contact those months previous, the man was always very elusive concerning his information. In fact, Starscream wasn't even sure if the Lieutenant even had a piece of the Allspark, or if he was just peddling information as he had now claimed. And because the seeker was genuinely unsure, he couldn't simply kill Rainer and those two irritating Autobots with him. He had to find out what, if anything, they knew.

And then he would kill them.

"Fleshling, I am losing my patience with you. What do you know of the Allspark?" Starscream practically oozed coolant when he thought about the total domination that would be his when he obtained his shard. He had planned to use it as Megatron had hoped: to raise an army, though the Air Commander knew he'd been an infinitely better leader.

Rainer nearly peed his pants. "I told you everything I know! Mitchell had the shard, and I was just out looking to make a quick buck!"

"Then why were you in a pawn shop with," Starscream paused to scan and run a search on Tony and Ziva's badges, "NCIS agents if you have nothing?"

"I was trying to pawn my watch and wedding ring, and I got caught there by these two." Rainer motioned to Ziva and Tony. "I'm in some serious debt with the tables, and I'm also overdue from leave. I was supposed to report back to the ship a week ago," the Lieutenant responded, the air literally deflating from his body. "These guys were here to drag me back to the Navy. Or to prison, which at this point, sounds preferable."

Starscream growled in frustration. He knew the human was hiding something, but he also knew it would do no good just to kill him now. Some investigation with the Garnet locals had led him to the dingy pawn shop, but had yielded no results. The store's lone employee was too busy reading his newspaper to even bother to look up. Starscream took one lap of the store, found nothing of interest, and turned around and left with not even a single word to the human. Settling his gaze back to Rainer, Starscream tipped his head. His blood red optics burned into the Lieutenant's eyes, issuing a silent challenge.

Rainer threw up his hands at Starscream's venomous snarl. "Dude! I told you everything I know. Mitchell had the lone shard of the Allspark or whatever the hell you called it, and he was already talking to someone to buy it. He and I had been in contact with each other, but I really didn't have anything of value to trade. I just thought I could create a little competition for him, and maybe get lucky."

"Where is Mitchell now?"

"He's dead. Killed by your Decepticon buddy," Tony answered. "Actually, you wouldn't mind telling us how he died, would you because we're not really sure."

Starscream clamped down the urge to separate the squishies' heads from their shoulders. When he'd offlined Barricade in the desert earlier in the week, he'd been careful to check for any signs of Allspark shards. He'd found none, and the lack of evidence of the shards frustrated him. After taking out Barricade, Starscream thought Mitchell had the shard, he knew Mitchell was dead, and he knew that Barricade had killed the Petty Officer accidentally. He just couldn't figure out where the shard went between the time Mitchell died and when he'd offlined Barricade. Knowing he was quickly running out of options, Starscream made a move toward Rainer. Maybe a missing leg or arm would be a better way to jog his memory.

Tony sensed the rising agitation from the large seeker. DiNozzo turned and glanced behind him to see if there was better cover available if they had to make a break for it. Instead, his eyes met the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Coming up fast and hard was Ironhide and Optimus, both Autobots with their transformation sequences beginning to engage.

"_Down_!" DiNozzo hollered, pulling Ziva to the sand with him and Rainer, still in his handcuffs, quickly followed suit. Skids and Mudflap, who'd been mercifully silent though the entire ordeal, opened fire with all they had in hopes of distracting Starscream long enough for Prime and Ironhide to target and fire.

Repeating almost exactly the same maneuver he pulled in Mission City, Ironhide transformed on the move and fired before all his armor was fully in place. His twin missiles left a trail of smoke in their wake, one scoring a direct hit to the Decepticon Air Commander's right wing, and the other sailing just a few feet wide to the left.

Optimus dropped Gibbs to the sand and transformed next to his weapons specialist, his battle mask sliding into place as he grabbed the rifle strapped to his back and locked it on the Decepticon seeker. Skids and Mudflap flanked their commanders, all four ready for a firefight.

Starscream analyzed his outnumbered and completely exposes position. He knew it would be a futile battle, and did what he knew: he ran. Transforming into his jet mode, the Seeker pulled up hard and fast as soon as he was airborne. In seconds, he was nothing but a spec on radar.

"Permission to shoot him down, drag him back here and kick him as hard as I can in the nosecone, Prime," Ironhide growled, his cannons nearly shaking on his arms.

Optimus cycled his vents. "Negative. Stand down. We've done what we can, and we both know Starscream is halfway to Mars right now."

Gibbs strolled up to DiNozzo and David. "You two want to tell me what happened?"

Tony smiled while Ziva handed over the piece of shard the NCIS agents had procured from the pawn shop to Lennox. "Sure boss, but first can we get back in the air conditioning? It's hot out here!"

* * *

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

"Wait. Run that by me one more time, Probie. I'm still confused," Tony said, his brows furrowed deep in concentration. The NCIS team was sitting in conference room with the NEST officers and the Autobots going over what would probably be the debriefing of their lives.

"All right. I'll go slow for the mentally challenged this time. Mitchell stole the shard from Megatron when he was in the hold on the _Stennis_. He mailed it back to himself stateside. While he was on the cruise, he contacted the man who turned out to be Barricade to sell him the shard. At the same time, Rainer contacted Starscream. When the Lieutenant slipped up and said that Mitchell had the other shard, Starscream started trying to locate the real source. Independent of Starscream, Barricade killed Mitchell to find what he was after. Essentially, Starscream and Barricade were racing each other to see who could find the shard first. They just didn't know there really _was_ actually two pieces."

"But it was a rather unfortunate way for your Petty Officer to perish, McGee," Ratchet piped in from his corner of the room. "I finally finished my tests on the shards we have while you were out playing with Starscream, and I must say that Miss Banes' original theory was correct. The shards react to certain types of Cybertronian signals, and it appears that when Barricade got close enough to Mitchell to touch him, the shard liquefied his organs."

The whole room cringed. "Ouch," Tony responded.

"Yes, I doubt it would have been pleasant, but I'm not sure why it was in his stomach in the first place. Humans. Strange creatures you are," Ratchet mumbled.

"So what about Mitchell? Who offed him?" DiNozzo asked.

"I think, based off what you found and what I discovered, we can assume it was Barricade who was responsible," Ratchet said. "Had it been Starscream, he would have torn your Petty Officer apart looking for that shard."

"And I assume when Starscream couldn't find the shard, he figured Barricade had it, which is why he killed one of his own men," Lennox exposed from the end of the human sized table.

Prime shifted his optics down. "Correct, Captain. And when Starscream couldn't find the shard on Barricade's body, he rightfully concluded we had it." Turning toward the NCIS agents, he added, "That is the likely reason none of you were killed. Power means more to Starscream than practically anything, so he couldn't just kill you and be done with it."

"We figured that," Tony answered. "And even though our Lieutenant Rainer is a lying sack of shit, for once it turned out to be a good thing. He actually saved our asses with that half cocked story he came up with. It almost sounded feasible, too."

"Do you think Starscream knew the other shard was buried under a rock patch entire time he was arguing with us?" Ziva asked from on top of Ironhide's shoulder.

The Topkick grunted. "I doubt it. If he had, he'd have just offlined you and walked away, happy to use Earth to blow a new hole in this solar system."

The room went silent for a beat as everyone processed their thoughts. As the briefing began to break up, Tony stretched lazily and stood. "Well I don't know about you guys, but I need a shower and a nap. Giant alien robots have fried my brain."

"Tony, that would imply you had a brain in the first place to fry," McGee shot back. Shaking his head at the back of his Senior Field Agent, Tim tried to find the energy to stack and gather the files after everyone had departed from the room. He spent the last night thinking how he not only blew the undercover operation, but how he was also nearly killed because of it. All because of one little slip of his tongue. For as much as Tony rode him about his fancy degrees and lack of street smarts, sometimes McGee thought he really did have a valid point. Maybe he just wasn't cut out for field work.

"Something on your mind, Agent McGee?"

Tim's head shot up as he banged his right knee hard on the underside of the table. Wincing, he met the optics of Optimus Prime. "No, no. I'm just thinking. I do that a lot," he lied rather unconvincingly.

Prime's right knee servo hissed as the boss walked over to where McGee was sitting. "Are you still concerned over your slip up with Barricade?" Tim's open expression of shock was more of an answer than Optimus needed. The Autobot leader chuckled softly and extended a hand for McGee to climb on. Once Tim was secure, Prime walked down the hall to his personal office in his quarters and set McGee down on his desk. Taking his customary place behind it, Optimus scrutinized the young agent.

"Agent McGee. Tim," Prime corrected. "You are clearly troubled."

"I'm sorry for blowing the op," McGee blurted. "Ratchet said he had to do some repairs on you because of that missile from Starscream."

Optimus waved a hand. "Do not concern yourself with that, McGee. As I told Ratchet, I would withstand the impact of a missile. You would not."

"But you still ended up hurt from something I did. If I had just reacted a little quicker, it never would have happened," McGee countered.

"Tim, Starscream would have hit me regardless of what you did. It was not your fault, and I am perfectly fine. Besides, I have to justify keeping Ratchet around here some way, don't I?" Optimus asked, a light bit of tease in his voice.

McGee smiled and then sighed. "Some days, I don't think I'm the right person for the job. I mean, I'm great with computers and I can hack anything." McGee stopped and closed his eyes. "Wait. You didn't hear that."

"Go on, McGee. We can disregard your lack of propriety on certain technological fronts for now," Prime said gently.

McGee forged ahead, determined. "I'm not cut out for undercover work. I mean, I blew the op, got you hurt and almost got my head squished. If it wasn't for you, Ironhide and Ratchet, I would be dead. And the sad part is that I would deserve it for making such a simple mistake."

Optimus tilted his head to the side. "Tell me, McGee. What do you think makes a good agent, or a good officer in general?"

McGee thought for a second. "Loyalty, trustworthiness, intelligence, humility, compassion."

"And do you not have all of those qualities? From the short time I've spent with you, I think they're present in you," Prime responded.

"Yeah, but that's not all. I mean, I'm just not a natural at this stuff. This people stuff comes so easy to Tony, Ziva was trained by Mossad, and Gibbs leads like he was born to do it," McGee grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "I have a bunch of degrees from MIT and Johns Hopkins. I'm smart on paper."

Prime paused. "Do you think people are born to do what they do or do you think they can learn how to be good at something they never thought they could do?"

"Well, at first I thought I could learn to do anything if I worked hard enough at it. Now, I'm not so sure," McGee answered honestly.

Optimus leaned back in his chair. Looking Tim straight in the eyes, Prime said, "What if I told you that before the war started, my only ambition was to work on the docks unloading energon shipments and live a very quiet life? Would you believe me?"

McGee couldn't help it. He started laughing. "Of course not! You're Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, ass kicker extraordinaire. That's a good story, though."

Prime's facial expression didn't change. "Hmm."

McGee scrunched his face up in confusion, his laughter ebbing quickly when he realized Prime's face remained serious. "Optimus? Is that really true?"

In a nonverbal response, Prime reached up with his right hand and activated his holo projectors, the same ones he used to show Sam and Mikaela Megatron and all the destruction he wrought. McGee looked on, utterly flabbergasted. He saw a young blue and red bot working with a feminine pink bot, clearly enjoying the other's company and companionship. As the projection played, Prime's voice cut through the silence.

"When I first came online, my name was Orion Pax, and yes, that's me. I was once happy to be but a simple dock worker before this war. I knew nothing about conflict, nothing about combat, and certainly nothing of war." A humorless chuckle escaped the Autobot leader. "I didn't even know how to fight. I made some choices I regret, and it lead to the first deaths for which I hold myself accountable."

McGee watched as the images played out. The docks were destroyed, many bots lying dead or dying amid the smoking rubble. He shuddered involuntarily at the similarities, the memories of the carnage on the _Cape Fear_ still fresh in his mind. Death was still death, and though it was an alien species, the pain was still the same.

"I was injured badly, and when I came back online, I was in a new body with new base programming and a new mission: fight the Decepticons. Everything had changed, and nearly everyone I knew was either offline, or nearly there. I had no choice." Optimus deactivated the holo projector and looked McGee in the eyes once again.

"Why are you showing me this, Optimus?"

"Perhaps I see a bit of myself in you, something a certain yellow medic reminded me of earlier. I tell you this because I don't believe anyone has a preplanned destiny or purpose. I am a testament to that. You are a smart young man, Tim. Just listen to those around you who are better than you at what you wish to achieve. In time, it will come."

"So you're not upset that I blew the mission?"

Prime shook his head left and right. "Not if you learned from it."

"Oh, you bet I did!" Tim smiled brightly, his relief palpable. "I get it, Prime. Thank you."

Optimus offered Tim his hand so he could be lowered to the floor. As McGee made his way toward the exit of Optimus' quarters, neither human nor Autobot caught the flash of yellow Hummer as the medic re-engaging the door lock and beat a quiet but hasty exit out of the leader's rooms. Optimus always underestimated how sneaky Ratchet could be when necessary, and eavesdropping on Prime's and McGee's soul searching definitely qualified as an opportunity for some stealth work. Clearing the door and walking down the hallway, Ratchet transformed and made his way back to medbay, laughing to himself the entire way there.

* * *

"You head home today, Ziva David," Ironhide said succinctly.

Ziva nodded. "We do, though I think at this point, it is with mixed feelings. This case has been…strange to say the least."

"I don't doubt it. It's not every day you discover life truly does exist outside your little water infested planet," Ironhide quipped.

Finishing his thought, Ziva added, "And that those new life forms can twist and change their shapes almost as they please!"

"I want to be truthful," Ironhide said as they completed their fourth lap around the NEST base.

"I would hope for nothing less from you."

"Right after I landed on Earth, Bumblebee was captured by an agent of a group called Sector Seven. He-- They-- Bumblebee was tortured, Ziva." Ironhide glanced toward the Autobot hanger where Bumblebee, in his Camaro mode, was playfully chasing Sam around the tarmac. It was a sharp contrast to the night he met Simmons. Ironhide suppressed a shudder as the sounds of the youngest Autobot's pained cries echoed through his processor.

"You were angry with us, yes?" Ziva asked gently. "Because we did not understand each other."

Ironhide nodded. "I _hated_ humans for that. I thought you were all lawless beasts, no different and certainly no better than the Decepticons. I even openly questioned Prime's judgment to not only allow that worthless pile of carbon to take Bumblebee, but why we'd even bother to help humans at all."

"But something obviously changed your mind."

The big mech was silent for a moment. "Sam and Mikaela."

"Well, it is nice to know we can redeem ourselves," Ziva said as she gently fingered her Star of David. "Not all humans are bad, but not all are good, either. We have not yet learned to agree to disagree and all of us are guilty of it. If we do not learn, we are bound to repeat the mistakes of our pasts."

"Your species is not alone in that case," he said before the drive was plunged back once again into silence.

It was a big revelation for a mech like Ironhide to be so open about his feelings. It was even harder for him to admit he was wrong. But, once again, he felt a certain pull toward Ziva that made him feel comfortable to share those things. It wasn't an attraction in a spark merge kind of way; that could and would never happen, but it was an attraction of brother or sisterhood, a bond between friends that could never be broken.

Ziva was the first to voice her feelings. "I will miss you, Ironhide. I have enjoyed immensely the time we spent together. It has been fun, though I'm not sure my teammates would agree. They think the two of us together is a world-ending friendship."

Ironhide laughed, the full, rich sound pouring out his speakers. "Likewise. Lennox told me that if we blew up the base, we would have to pay for it."

Seeing the C-130 taxing to a halt, Ironhide turned back toward the human hanger. "That's your ride."

"Indeed it is," she said as he stopped. Opening the door and stepping out, Ziva said, "Good luck, Ironhide and keep in touch. And keep that leader of yours in line!"

Transforming, he planted his large hands on his hips. "I will, and you do the same."

Ziva walked quickly into the human hanger and grabbed her gear. Satisfied she's left nothing, Ziva exited and locked the door, handing the key to the waiting supply clerk near the end of the hallway. Falling in step with Gibbs, the two walked out of NEST's human lodgings and toward the waiting C-130.

DiNozzo trotted through the hanger, catching up to his boss and partner after finishing the task of clearing his room. "I've secured Rainer transport home for his Article 32, and Ducky said Mitchell's aunt finally surfaced and has claimed his body. The paperwork is all set to go for both."

"And?"

Tony scratched the side of his head with his right index finger, one of his tells that he was uneasy. "And what? This one's all wrapped up in a nice little completely-censored-for-national-security package."

Gibbs took the folder from DiNozzo's hand and read it over. Snapping it closed, he looked Tony in the eye. "I don't see any problems here DiNozzo, other than why drag Rainer all the way back to D.C.? We don't need him for anything anymore."

DiNozzo lowered his voice. "Well, don't we have to bring him back with us for trial?"

"No."

"No?" Ziva and Tony exchanged confused looks. "Boss, in case you haven't noticed, we're still in Nevada."

"Ya think, DiNozzo? The San Diego field office is closer. Call them and have them take Rainer in."

Ziva was still puzzled but accepted Gibbs' choice. If he didn't want to haul the former SH-60 pilot back to D.C., she wasn't going to argue. "How are we supposed to write this one up, Gibbs? Stealing alien parts for profit isn't exactly something covered under the UCMJ."

"Call it 'improper use of government property' and let Cresswell work it all out. It's what he's there for, anyway."

"If that's what you want, boss," DiNozzo said skeptically.

"I'm sure, DiNozzo," Gibbs sarcastically responded as he holstered his gun and walked toward the waiting C-130. "Be creative. You're good at telling stories."

The light went off in DiNozzo's head. "Oh I get it, boss. You just want an excuse to annoy Captain Rabb, don't you?" DiNozzo said with a smirk as he realized what Gibbs was up to. "He is going to _love_ you for that!"

"That's what I'm hoping for, DiNozzo." Gibbs' voice wafted from the hallway.

As Tony made his call to the San Diego JAG office, Ziva leaned her elbows on her bunk and twiddled a pencil through the air. "Who is Captain Rabb?"

"Rabb was Cresswell's pain in the ass ex fighter pilot second, and the one Gibbs almost put in Leavenworth for murder."

"When did that happen?" Ziva asked, surprised. She couldn't imagine any other NCIS agent trying to pin murder on what was likely a decorated aviator turned lawyer.

"It was well before you got here, and even before Kate was on the team. Interesting case. A lieutenant and JAG lawyer, a chick, was found murdered and Rabb and his brother ended up being the prime suspects," Tony said, still on hold with Rabb's yeoman. "The Lt. was pregnant at the time, so the suspects were the people she was doing the horizontal mambo with. Ended up being quite a list."

"And Rabb was on that list?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah, but not for boinkin' her. He just outright couldn't stand the woman," Tony answered, blowing out a breath of impatience.

"So what happened?"

"Turned out it was another lawyer that killed her. Rabb was exonerated and then promoted, which is why I'm on hold with his yeoman," DiNozzo finished.

"Aha," Ziva said as she grabbed her sea bag and followed her partner out of the hanger and toward the waiting transport plane. She could hear Tony giving Petty Officer Coates instructions on Rainer before clicking his phone shut. "So, this annoyance is a good thing?"

"Of course, Zee-vah," DiNozzo said with a smirk, handing his bag to the private working ground detail for storage.

Hopping in to the plane, Ziva and Tony nodded to Gibbs and McGee, already strapped in. "I think I get it. Rainer stays here with Rabb, who is 3,000 miles from D.C., and the good captain gets to deal with the fallout of a case he can't know anything about?" Ziva asked, clearly enjoying herself.

Gibbs nodded from his seat. "That about sums it up."

DiNozzo elbowed McGee. "Didya take your Dramamine this time, McAirSick?"

Tim rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yes, Tony, though if I knew I was sitting next to you I wouldn't have just so I could puke on you."

"That might almost be worth the mess," Gibbs quipped, DiNozzo's mouth snapping shut in horror. Ziva let out a hearty laugh.

Looking slyly out of her peripheral vision, Ziva eyed DiNozzo. "You're going to make McGee deal with the captain when he calls in to us upset, aren't you?"

"Absofreakinlutley! What are probies for, anyway?"

"You are such an ass, Tony," Ziva yelled over the sudden roar of the C-130's engines as the planed took off down the runway. Peering out the windows, the base of Diego Garcia was rapidly turning into just a dot on the landscape. The NCIS agents were heading home.

* * *

Washington, D.C.

The elevator dinged behind Ziva and Tony as McGee practically sprinted down the stairs in relief from the director's office. Shepherd had the team's youngest agent sequestered in her office for most of the day, debugging her computer after she accidentally opened an email that installed a rather nasty virus. As Tim eyed the sanctuary that was his desk in the bullpen, Abby rounded the corner from the elevator bay in search of her fellow nerd.

"Hey McGee?" Abby asked tentatively.

McGee turned around before sitting at his desk. "Yeah, Abby?"

The Goth forensic tech paused, considering he next words carefully. "Can I ask you something? It's kind of been bugging me since this whole thing with PO Mitchell went down."

McGee smiled. "Sure, Abby."

"What was the place like you were at? Was it cool?"

McGee smiled whimsically. "Oh, it was all of that, Abby. All of that." She waited for him to go on. "What? I can't tell you anything more than that. The stuff we saw and the team we met are so classified it would make your head spin!"

Abby looked incredulous. "That's it? That's _it_? You guys disappear off the Eastern Seaboard, fly across the country to a base you can't even point to on a map, meet some government bureau bums about some new experimental metal, work with a special ops team, and all you can say is that it was _cool_? Not fair, McGee. Not fair."

McGee rubbed his arm where Abby had just slapped it. "What am I supposed to say?"

"But I have top level security clearance! What the hell?!"

"You have to be approved by the Secretary of Defense for this, Abby. Do you understand that? I'm sorry. I just can't say anything," McGee said. "Maybe Gibbs can pull a few strings. You should go talk to him. I think he and the SECDEF go way back. If there's a way, it's probably through those two."

Placated that her boss may be able to tell her more, Abby pouted in Tim's direction before making her way back down to her lab. Watching the entire exchange across the bullpen were Ziva and Tony. Both agents strolled up to McGee to console the young agent.

"I wish I could tell her something. I mean, she would think it was so cool!" McGee practically whined. He hated himself for concealing the truth to one of Abby's longstanding beliefs, but national security was national security.

"Yeah, Tim, sometimes life just sucks." DiNozzo laid a hand on McGee's shoulder in a brotherly sign of affection.

"I still don't know what to think, and I was there! This…this," McGee trailed off.

"This has officially been the strangest week of my life," Ziva finished.

"I heard that," DiNozzo seconded.

"I need a beer," McGee muttered.

Up on the catwalk near MTAC, Gibbs leaned over the railing and smiled.

* * *

**Next Up**: The last part! Optimus gets caught with his pants down (figuratively), and Abby _finally_ gets to meet the Autobots. Head slaps abound. Come on, now. You all didn't think I'd write a story about NCIS meeting Optimus Prime and his group without including Abby into the mix, did you?


	12. Chapter 12: Epilogue

**Author's Note**: Well, this is it, and I wanted to thank everyone for reading, favoriting and commenting. I hope I've done my job in entertaining the lot of you, and that you've had as much fun reading as I have writing. This is my first completed large story, and because of the overwhelmingly positive response, I'm certain it won't be my last. I had no idea what I was getting into when I jumped in with both feet to this fandom in August, and I can honestly say I've enjoyed every minute of it.

All the feedback means more to me than you could possibly know, because it's ultimately my goal to be a better writer. I've learned a lot through writing this fic, both what I'm good at, and what I need to improve. Thank you, to all of you for the continued support and I hope I haven't disappointed you all.

**Disclaimer**: If Jerry Bruckheimer or Don Bellasario felt the need for an extra child, I would certainly take up their offer. But, unless I can claim some sort of relation to either of those two gentlemen or the lead dudes from Hasbro, neither of these franchises or their characters belongs to me. I only own the plot and the mistakes.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Diego Garcia, NEST Headquarters

"Prime, are you sure this a good idea?"

Optimus cycled his vents. "For the twenty third time Ironhide, yes I'm _sure _it's a good idea."

"But who's counting?" the black mech muttered under his breath.

Optimus, Ratchet and Ironhide were enjoying a rare collective night off in Prime's personal quarters. Ratchet had constructed, in true Wheeljack fashion, a machine to convert regular energon into high grade, and the senior officers were having a good time conducting a "quality control" test. Ironhide and Prime figured it would be tantamount to conduct unbecoming to let the troops use the machine before it was thoroughly checked and rechecked by the higher ups, or so the theory went.

The game of poker had the medic intrigued as well, having seen many of the soldiers, along with Sam and Mikaela, playing it on many occasions. Ironhide had become somewhat of an ESPN junkie since he discovered television. Though he preferred actual sports, American football especially, the hulking black mech spent several hours watching the World Series of Poker Main Event when it was broadcast on his favorite sports channel. Seeing the shared love, the teens presented Ratchet with a set of Autobot sized playing cards and a matching set of poker chips. The cards were actually laser cut pieces of metal with the appropriate suit and number, decorated by Sam and Mikaela. As a joke, the Autobots' young charges had painted the face cards not with the traditional king, queen and jack, but with the pictures of Optimus Prime, Elita One and Jazz in tribute to their new Cybertronian friends. The specially made chips had come from a friend of Keller's, whatever that meant.

Optimus was secretly giddy to test out the playing cards, the new energon mixer, and his poker face, obviously sans battle mask. Prime had covertly studied the game of No Limit Texas Hold 'Em in an effort to one up Ironhide. The weapons specialist might be more heavily armed and a better shot, but Prime was the better tactician of the two. The Autobot leader was determined to keep it that way.

"Honestly, would you please stop complaining for just one day? We owe Gibbs and his team a great debt for helping us recover the remaining pieces of the Allspark. Besides, I thought you liked Ziva," Optimus groused as he analyzed his own cards. Having not anted any chips at the start of the hand, Prime reached for his stack and tossed a few in the middle of the table, seeing Ratchet's big blind bet.

"I'm not complaining about the party, Prime, or seeing NCIS. You know I wouldn't do that. This base deserves it." In the small blind, Ironhide took a quick peek at his own cards. Grabbing some chips, Ironhide saw the big blind and raised 100.

"Then, what's the problem?" Ratchet asked, laying his cards down on the table. "Too rich for me. I fold."

"The lack of suitable - How do humans put it? Adult beverages?" Ironhide groused as he picked up his hall full cube and shook it in his leader's face.

Optimus cycled his vents yet again, shuffling his chips expertly with his thumb and first two fingers of his left hand. Prime pondered briefly what cards Ironhide may have and then called, his chips falling in the rapidly growing pile in the middle of the table. "You know as well as I there isn't enough time to make that much. We've been busy with other things, if you don't remember."

Ironhide crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. Jazz's repairs have not been easy, Ironhide. I can personally attest to how many hours Prime has put in on his own time helping me get everything back in the right spot. And since we're going to bring him online tomorrow, how can you think we could possibly make that high grade overnight?" Ratchet asked earnestly.

Optimus shuttered his optics, placing the deck of cards down on the table before dealing the flop. "I know how much you love it Ironhide, but it's simply impossible. I'm sorry," the big leader said apologetically.

The weapons specialist said nothing, but gave a little grunt as he shifted in his seat. Instead, he laid his cards face down on the table and walked over toward the Autobot sized bookcase against the far wall in the living room. Giving it a solid tug, the bookcase slid forward, revealing a recessed area behind it. Stacked neatly twenty feet high and equally as wide in the hollowed out space was Prime's personal and large stash of wonderfully pure high grade.

Optimus' jaw dropped, his battle mask sliding into place on instinct. His processor spun, trying to formulate the correct response. He settled on the least likely response Ratchet and Ironhide thought they'd ever hear from the straight-laced leader. "Uh, I have no idea how that got there," he lied unconvincingly.

"Uh, huh. And Mojo is well behaved," Ironhide said, fixing the flamed Peterbilt with a pointed stare.

"You lying glitch! For once, and Primus help me for this, Skids and Mudflap were _right_. You. Have. A. Secret. Stash. Of. High grade. Where the frag did you manage to get all that, Prime? Wait. Don't answer that. I don't really want to know. Sometimes, it's better to be able to claim ignorance," Ratchet said as he practically giggled in amusement at his boss' obvious discomfort. "But sharing would be a nice gesture of goodwill."

"Frag it all to the pit. All right, you win. Both of you," Prime said despondently as he ran a hand over his face, effectively conceding defeat. He at least had enough sense to know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Ironhide's optics lit up with joy. He always knew Optimus had the best high grade, and now he had solid proof to win the bet of all bets on the base. If and where Prime had a stash of high grade was, up until that moment, as much of mystery as why the sky was blue.

"I knew you'd see reason," Ironhide said triumphantly.

"You're not taking it all, you two!" Prime indignantly muttered.

"No, we'll leave you with a couple of cubes," Ratchet confirmed. "We're not _that_ sparkless, you know."

"Primus, I know I'm going to regret this. Understand that _you_ will be the one to deal with the Minor Twins when they undoubtedly become overcharged playing that slagging game Agent DiNozzo taught them. What was it called again? Beer pong?" Optimus said, moving across the room to re-secure his high grade hidey hole. "Since you _are_ stealing all of my stash, after all."

"Oh, I think I can handle that," Ironhide said as he cracked his finger joints in expectation.

Prime glared at him. "Without shooting them, Ironhide. Don't make me offline your cannons."

"I'll think of a Plan B. If there's high grade, there's a way."

Sitting back down to finish their game, Ironhide's processors buzzed with anticipation. He was all of sudden looking forward to the party with NCIS, scheduled two days from the officer's impromptu poker tournament. Ironhide glanced at the blue and red mech once again and was content to see a frown surreptitiously resembling a pout marring the youngish mech's face. At least Optimus had the courtesy to retract his mask once again so the game could continue.

Breaking the leader out of his suddenly sour mood, Ratchet giddly asked, "Optimus? The flop?"

"Yes. My apologies, Ratchet."

Optimus tabled one card and then dealt three face up. Nine of clubs, six of spades and jack, er _Jazz_ of clubs. Prime tried to keep his faceplates as placid as possible as his spark thrummed away in his chest. No help to his ace of hearts and ace of diamonds, but not any great hurt either. Figuring he could bluff Ironhide out of some more chips, Prime quickly checked, but Ironhide checking right behind him. The turn card was an ace of spades. Trying valiantly to hold the grin off his faceplates, Optimus studied Ironhide as carefully as he could for any read on the Topkick. Seeing none, Prime reached for his stack and threw in 200 chips. See if Ironhide had the balls to come over top of _that_ one!

Shifting his optics toward his stack, Ironhide plucked 200 chips from his three dwindling towers and added them to the pile. Optimus tabled one more card and flipped the river card over for all three bots to see. Eight of clubs. Determined to win and believing his set of aces was the best hand, Prime shoved the stack of chips forward, the pieces of plastic jingling and clinking as the neatly stacked towers collapsed from the sudden movement.

"All in."

Ironhide didn't hesitate, even though Prime had the weapons specialist covered two to one. "Call."

Optimus happily turned over his pocket rockets and grinned victoriously. "Set. Aces."

For the entire hand, Ironhide's face never belied even the slightest bit of emotion. Seeing Prime's triumphant grin and accompanying cards, Ironhide's faceplates cracked into a slow, sly smile. His cards still face down in his hand, Ironhide nudged Ratchet's arm. "What's that human saying, Ratch? 'Read 'em and weep' I think, right?" Ratchet nodded, somehow keeping his laughter at bay. "Well Prime, read 'em and weep. Straight flush!" Ironhide threw his cards down on the table. The six and seven of clubs stared back at the Autobot leader defiantly.

"Wha-- _Slag it all to the pit_! Ironhide, is your processor malfunctioning?" Optimus practically shrieked, disbelief plastered all over his faceplates.

"That's why it's called gambling, Prime," Ironhide said cheerfully as thick arms raked the huge pile of chips toward him. Stacking them carefully again, Ironhide mused, "Well, I think this game's a little fairer now."

"Maybe for you two," Optimus grumbled in return. Moving the dealer button over to the lucky Topkick for the next hand, Ironhide began to deal as the small blind and big blind were tossed to the center of the table.

"Oh, and Prime?" the black mech asked, his smug smile still audible in his voice.

"What is it, Ironhide?" Prime retorted with annoyance, trying to concentrate on the game once again.

"Your poker face sucks."

* * *

Abby Sciuto was not a happy Goth. When Gibbs had insisted his team take a team-building trip instead of enjoying their much-deserved weekend, she had been bummed. But when she had discovered the trip was to a remote part of the Nevada desert, she had been positively livid. Three days away from civilization, computers and most importantly, Caff-pow! was not her idea of fun. Gibbs had been unrelenting and had cut off all efforts for her to wiggle her way out of the excursion.

"Gibbs, I don't understand why you had to drag me all the way out here. The Pearson trial starts next week, and I'm on the witness list," Abby whined loudly from the aft portion of the C-130's passenger berths. "I also had kick ass plans for the weekend."

Gibbs, sitting forward near the cockpit door, let out a slight chuckle and shouted over the noise of the engines. "You'll see. I promise it'll be worth it."

Abby didn't seem to be placated by her boss' words. "But Gibbs! I had plans this weekend! _Big_ plans! As in front row seats and meet and greet passes for Lacuna Coil big plans! You know, meet and greet? When you get to go backstage and hang out with the band after the show?"

"I know what meet and greet passes are, Abbs."

The NCIS forensics expert was on a roll and wasn't going to stop. "But it's just not fair! I had the greatest weekend planned out, but no! Instead, I'm told I have to come on this field trip, probably required by Madame Director, and instead of rocking out at the show, I'm stuck in the back of noisy C-130 surrounded by stinky, sweaty soldiers, en route to the middle of nowhere!" Abby looked over at said NEST soldiers and added as an afterthought, "No offense, guys. You do smell."

Several vivacious nods and a chorus of, "Yeah we know," answered her rant.

"Are you done, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"No. I need a couple more seconds to pout." Abby crossed her arms over her chest and puffed out her lower lip. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Okay. I'm done now. I just had to get it out of my system. But really, Gibbs. Why? Like, really why?"

"Would you still be mad if we told you we're dragging you out to confirm one of your craziest theories?" Tony asked, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Now they had her attention.

Abby narrowed her eyes at Tony. "What theory?"

McGee, seated next to Tony on the starboard side of the plane, exchanged glances with the senior field agent. "Weeeelll, do you still believe in extraterrestrial life?"

"Of course I do! I know we're not alone," she said, putting her hand over her chest mock dramatically and gazing out the window at the sky. "Ow. The sun is bright. And if you guys are yanking my chain, I swear…"

"We're not, Abby, and you will not be disappointed," McGee said.

Abby was practically humming with joy, her brain running at the speed of an NHRA funny car as she tried to figure out where they were headed. "Oh! We get to see Area 51! I knew it existed! I wonder if it's gonna be all like Independence Day. Is it Area 51, Gibbs?"

"Nope. It's better."

"What is it, then?" Abby asked, her dark pigtails bouncing in time with her energy.

"You still have about 20 minutes before we land, Abbs. I'm not telling."

"But Giiiibbbss!" Abby was certainly not above whining, especially concerning things of the occult. "That's not fair! You tell me just enough, and now you're going to hold out on me? _So_ not cool, bossman!"

"Abigail, just be patient, my dear. I'm sure Jethro has a good reason for all the secrecy," Ducky said. Shooting Gibbs a glance, the medical examiner amended, "Well, at least he'd better. Mother's going to have my hide when I get home for leaving her like this."

Twenty minutes later, the NCIS team found themselves on the Diego Garcia tarmac of NEST headquarters. Lead by their contingent of 'stinky, sweaty soldiers', Gibbs and company was ushered into the main hanger where they were greeted by Epps and Lennox.

"Agent Gibbs. Glad you could come back out. They've been asking about you and your team," Lennox said. Gibbs looked around the hanger.

"Ah. I appreciate you having us. Congratulation on your promotions, both of you," Gibbs said, noticing the extra stripes on Epps' uniform and the new silver oak leaves for Lennox.

"Thank you, Gibbs. It was one of Keller's last official acts in office," Epps said. "Is this the whole team?"

"Yep, but I think we should save the introductions for when everyone is present." Lennox gave a curt nod and led the group down a few hallways into another large hanger, one that was completely closed off save for one small section towards the front. Gibbs watched, secretly amused as Abby's mood continued to sour.

Inside the small interior room, four vehicles were parked toward the wall and a squadron of mixed Army and Air Force enlisted personnel were milling about. Also present were four civilians, all sitting in the back of the parked GMC Topkick. Seeing the group enter, all present stood and made their way over to Lennox and Epps. Gibbs took this as his cue for introductions.

"Okay, now that everyone's here, Agent Gibbs, I'll have you introduce." Lennox said. Gibbs stepped forward.

"You all know McGee, DiNozzo and David." Epps, Lennox and the four unknown men nodded. "This is Dr. Mallard, our medical examiner and his assistant, Jimmy Palmer."

"Pleased, gentlemen," Ducky said with a nod of his head. Palmer gave a big smile and waved a friendly hello.

"And this," Gibbs said as he gestured towards Abby, "is Abby Sciuto, our forensics expert."

"Hi," Abby said flatly as she absentmindedly chewed on a nail. One of the four unknown men stepped forward. A tall man in his early thirties and at least six and a half feet tall, he had a strong impressive build, unnaturally bright blue eyes and dark brown hair.

"Miss Scuito. I've heard much about you, and we are pleased to finally have the opportunity to meet. Special Agent Gibbs has spoken very highly of you," he said in a deep baritone voice as he greeted the NCIS forensic tech, her hand all but disappearing into his massive grip. "My name is Optimus Prime."

"Um, great?" she said, sarcasm lacing her words. Remembering the manners she was taught and the kick she'd get from her grandmother if she ever saw her granddaughter's rudeness, Abby firmed her grip and said, "Nice to meet you."

Unperturbed by the Goth's behavior, Prime continued. "For the rest of you, this is my team: Ratchet, our medic; Ironhide, weapons specialist, and Bumblebee, our scout." As he spoke, Optimus gestured toward each man standing near him. Both Ratchet and Ironhide appeared to be in their mid forties, Ratchet with glasses and a curious but cynical look about him. Bumblebee, with his sandy blonde hair and youthful looks, appeared more like a snowboarder than a soldier.

Upon seeing the holoform Ironhide had chosen, Gibbs had to bite back a full-blown laugh. The damn Autobot had a sense of humor after all, modeling his human look after Gibbs' drill instructor from Parris Island. Admittedly, Ironhide already had the demeanor to match, but his choice was too funny.

Lennox added as he gestured toward each person, "And we can't forget the rest of us. This is Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes. I'm Will Lennox, and this meathead over here is my sergeant, Bobby Epps."

All the NCIS agents exchanged friendly handshakes and greetings with the NEST team, all except for Abby. Noticing her discomfort, Ironhide asked, "Is there something wrong, Ms. Sciuto?"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you're great guys and all, but I was told there'd be cool, out of this world stuff here. I'm just a little bummed right now. They lied to me. Again." Abby muttered something dark about castration and her teammates under her breath.

Mikaela quirked an eyebrow. "Who said there isn't?"

At that moment, four of the men Abby had been talking to blinked out of existence, and a cacophony of sounds assaulted her ears. As she looked toward the back of the hanger, she saw all four parked vehicles change their shape and literally stand up.

"Holyshit!" Abby squealed, her hands flying to her mouth.

Ducky gaped, unable to even formulate one word for his reaction. Much like McGee's initial reaction, the medical examiner's mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water, no sound coming forth.

"Ducky is silent. I think we need to mark this date down, yes?" Ziva said with a twinkle in her eyes. McGee and DiNozzo chorused a 'yes' in response.

Finally finding his voice, Ducky said, "Well, I must admit, of all the things it could have been, this is not what I was expecting. This reminds me of the time when--," Ducky stopped himself, placing his hand on his chin. "Well, actually, I haven't the foggiest of what this could _possibly_ remind me of. What do you think, Mr. Palmer?"

Jimmy gesticulated wildly with his hands through the air. When he tried to speak, sounds that could only be described as unmanly squeaks made their way out of his mouth.

Bumblebee couldn't resist an audio clip or two, choosing Will Smith from, appropriately, Independence Day. _'__You know, this was supposed to be my weekend off. But, noooo. You got me out here…through the middle of the burning desert…I coulda been at a barbeque! But that's all right. I ain't mad. That is all right.'_

Gibbs leaned over toward Abby. "Still want to be at a concert right now?"

"Concert? What concert? Gibbs! They're--THEY'RE GIANT ALIENS!" Abby shouted, pigtails waving in every direction.

"Yep, Abbs. I kinda noticed that when I first met them," Gibbs said sarcastically.

"But Bossman! Do you know what this means?" Gibbs shook his head. "It means that I can finally say, with certainty that life exists outside Earth! That is soooo cool!" Abby said, doing a little spin in a circle. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

The Autobots, in their true forms, took a brief moment for reintroductions and to laugh at Abby's outrageous reaction.

"All right. Now that you are all done having heart attacks, lets get this party started!" Mikaela yelled at the top of her lungs. Bumblebee moved to the door that partitioned the hanger and pushed it open. On the other side, a huge spread of food, drinks and grills were set up near the back of the cavernous space, alongside both human and Autobot sized tables. Ironhide made a beeline for the stacked cubes of high grade, being watched closely by a scowling Optimus Prime.

Spying the Chevy twins out of the corner of his optics, Prime said, "Skids, Mudflap, it's either hall ball _or_ beer pong, not both, and certainly not at the same time." The twins huddled up to make a decision.

"But Boss Bot, we want to do both!" Skids whined as both he and his brother stopped short of the table of energon cubes.

Optimus rolled his optics again and cycled his vents. "Fine. If you must, you may play hall ball, but before you consume any high grade. You will stop when I tell you. The second those facial plates of yours touches any high grade, hall ball is no more. If you disobey me, I'll turn you over to Ratchet for whatever punishment he deems appropriate. Are we clear?"

The Chevy twins, excited beyond words, zipped out of the hanger to find their ball. Soon, sounds of grunts, swearing and crashing could be heard from the residence section of the Autobot hanger.

"And if they want to keep their exhausts intact, they'll forget about that infernal hall ball game. Brutal, barbaric and completely pointless," Ratchet muttered as he stepped up to join the group. "You're getting soft in your old age, Prime."

Optimus playfully shoved his medic and longtime friend, Ratchet losing his balance momentarily and stumbling into the side of the hanger. "I am not soft, as you so eloquently put it, and I am _certainly_ not old. At least, compared to you. I'm just allowing Skids and Mudflap to enjoy a bit of their youth. You're just crabby in your advanced life cycle. Forget how to have fun, 'Ratch?"

"Insufferable 'bot. The next time you play catch with a missile and have your wires fused to your protoform, I'm just going to let you fix it yourself. Without painkillers. Keep it up. One day, I will."

"How many credits do you want on that bet, medic?"

Sam and Mikaela laughed lightly as the banter between medic and leader continued. According to Ironhide, it had been a long time since Optimus had been this relaxed. And though he was trying desperately to maintain the cynical front he showed to the world, Mikaela could see Ratchet was clearly having a good time. The sparkle in his optics gave away his amusement. Both teens smiled happily, glad their species was able to lift the burden of leadership from the Autobots, even if was just for one day.

"Now, what's this party missing? Oh, I know. Music!" Sam said gleefully as he clapped his hands together and looked around. "Where's our DJ?"

As soon as Sam had said the words, another set of doors opened and a silver Pontiac Solstice strolled through in robot form.

"What's crackin', little bitches?" came the smooth greeting. "Did someone say they wanted to kick it to some tunes?"

Prime stepped in, a smile of satisfaction making its way across his face. "I would like to introduce my first lieutenant to those who don't know him. This is Jazz."

Ziva looked confused, recalling the memory she had of being in med bay with Ironhide next to a large Cybertronian body that was most definitely not alive. "I don't mean to be rude, but weren't you," she paused, looking for the right word. "offline the last time we saw you?"

"Yeah, I was. But I need to thank you guys, which is why Prime organized this little get together." Optimus glared half-heartedly at Jazz, his lieutenant ignoring him. The Solstice continued. "Without you, I'd still be in pieces with The Hatchet from Megatron ripping me apart. Though I'm not sure what's worse: Megatron or a service with our dear medic."

Ratchet threw a wrench across the room. Jazz caught it smoothly and threw it back, the wrench impacting squarely on the Hummer's push bar. "Ungrateful slagger. I put you back together, and I can take you apart, you know."

Jazz just rolled his optics. "Try it, old man. You'd have to catch me first!" the Solstice responded jovially. Ratchet threw down his medical tools and transformed. Jazz followed suit, and NCIS, NEST and the Autobots were treated to the complete spectacle of a Solstice being chased across the NEST tarmac by a large search and rescue Hummer.

"It was only because you helped us find enough fragments of the Allspark that Jazz has been repaired. Ratchet could and did repair all his physical damage, but he had no way to re-ignite his spark. Those tiny shards you were able to collect had just enough power to reanimate him, which we were able to do yesterday," Optimus said from behind the table, his blue optics showing his amusement at his officer's antics. Both 'bots came roaring back into the hanger, transforming on the move and sliding to a neat halt in front of their leader.

"So, we needed a way to say 'thank you' and Prime told us about how you were forced to spend a couple of days a year building team chemistry. We thought, what better way to do it than to spend it with us?" Ratchet said.

"Besides, I hear those trust exercises are a real downer, man," Jazz added from beside the medic.

DiNozzo barked a laugh. "They sure are! Hey boss, I like this guy."

"It's the least I can do. Thank you." Jazz said seriously.

Craning their necks, all the NCIS agents said, "You're welcome."

"Now, _LET'S PAAAARRRRTTTYYYY!!!" _Epps shouted from the middle of the hanger. "DJ, spin that shit!" Jazz gladly took his place behind the sound and light equipment and began to blast music at unsafe decibel levels.

"_This_ is our team building exercise? A barbeque with giant alien robots?!" Abby shrieked as she realized she'd been had. Gibbs just smiled.

"Just don't tell the director, Abbs. If she knows it wasn't painful, she may insist on a real trip." Abby bounded over to Gibbs and practically tackled him in a bear hug.

"Bossman! You're the greatest! And my lips are so sealed, it's like, amazing."

"Always have been, Abbs." Gibbs pressed a kiss to the Goth's cheek right before she scurried off to join the gathered Autobots and NEST members, the latter attacking the food and drinks like a pack of starving wolves. As she made her way over to the tall yellowish green medibot, she started thinking. There was something about Prime and the way he and Gibbs were amicably talking as if they were old war buddies that rubbed her the wrong way.

"_Wait. Gibbs said that some super secret special operations team saved him the first time out in Desert Storm, and I remember him saying the team's leader was named…Oh, I'm going to kill him!"_

Getting a half a dozen steps away, Abby turned back and started towards Gibbs, who had begun a conversation with Prime. Falling in behind her boss, Abby reached up with her right hand, and gave the back of Gibbs' head the hardest head slap NCIS had ever witnessed. Jazz abruptly cut the music. The sound of the contact, along with the sound of several jaws dropping, reverberated through the suddenly silent hanger.

"OW! Abby! What the _hell_ was that for?!" Gibbs bellowed, rubbing the back of his head.

"_That_, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, was for lying to me every single time I asked you if you believed in aliens, and whether they existed. You _knew_ all this time and you wouldn't tell me!" Abby practically yelled, jabbing an accusatory finger in her boss' chest with every word.

"Well, you wouldn't have believed me unless I brought proof, and how was I supposed to prove them?" Gibbs asked, gesturing wildly in the general direction of Prime and Ratchet.

Abby paused in mid thought, her face softening instantly. "Good point, bossman." Turning her head in McGee's direction, Abby said, "What are you smirking at, McGee?"

"Oh, I'm just thinking about what a great next book this is going to make. Even Thom E. Gemcity couldn't make this stuff up!"

Several hissing vents and squeaking gears gave away the movement of one of the Autobots. A large, silver finger came quietly up from behind McGee and gave a gentle tap to the back of the NCIS agent's head.

"Hey! FICTION! Now, Ziva was that really nece--?" McGee hollered, whirling around to come face to battle mask with Optimus Prime. Startled, McGee shifted his blue eyes nervously back and forth, trying to formulate the correct response. "Uh, I mean, ow?"

"That would be unwise, Agent McGee. While we appreciate your help in recovering the remaining fragments of the Allspark, we wish to remain on Earth as anonymously as possible." Prime admonished, doing his best to keep his voice smooth and even.

"Ha! Probie got headslapped by the giant robot version of Gibbs. Nice one, McGoPissOffTheBigBoss." DiNozzo laughed and he turned to Prime. "So, picking up on human customs? Because if you need more, I'm, you know, the master!"

Ratchet and Ironhide groaned. "No, for the love of Primus! You do not need to teach Skids and Mudflap any more 'Earth customs'. We're still recovering from the first batch!"

"The master? The master of what, Tony? Bullshitting? Quoting movies? You couldn't teach them anything they couldn't learn from the internet," Ziva said smugly. "Direct connection, remember?"

"Oh, but come on! The head slap! Only the boss does that!" DiNozzo continued with a gesture of a fake head slap to the back of his own head to add to his explanation.

Optimus raised an optic ridge, and in his most regal and diplomatic voice, looked DiNozzo directly in the eye and asked, "Where do you think your leader learned it?"

DiNozzo was stunned into speechlessness. He looked at McGee, who was equally flabbergasted. Gibbs cracked a small smile and exchanged glances with Optimus. Prime's battle mask might conceal his smile from McGee and Tony, but Gibbs could see the amusement in the Autobot leader's optics. Walking toward the refreshment table, Gibbs said, "Leave it alone, you two. There are some things I just won't share."

As DiNozzo and McGee dragged themselves reluctantly across the hanger and away from the spectacle, they couldn't help but stare.

"Did Gibbs really-- I mean, could he have possibly--" Tony stuttered. He and McGee exchanged disbelieving glances, shook their heads, and simultaneously decided,

"Naaahh."

**--FIN--**

**

* * *

**

And that's it! For those of you that requested it, I am in the process of writing Abby's sequel story, All Expenses Paid. Look for it around mid December. Again, thanks ever so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ride.

--Gix


End file.
